


Survivor

by PencilPuppy



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Aliens in Hunger Games, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, District 12, District 2, F/M, Many More Characters to Come, Original Character(s), will update as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:15:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 123,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23591449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PencilPuppy/pseuds/PencilPuppy
Summary: It was finally over.The aliens on Earth had been through hell in the arena. But in the end, they had managed to survive. The cost was much too high, but in the end, they had finally won the Hunger Games. They had finally returned to their respective homes where they could live now in peace, away from it all. They had finally made it.Had they?
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Mon-El
Comments: 168
Kudos: 98





	1. Bailat Daxam (Farewell)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone!  
> Before anything else, how is everyone doing? I hope you all are in the safety of your respective houses. I know the situation that the world is facing right now seems critical, but it is during times like these that we need to remind ourselves of the power that we as humans can have if we stand united and co operate. It is far too easy to let fear take over. But when that happens, we need to remind ourselves that this is not the end. And like all problems, this will pass too.  
> So, I urge every single person reading this, to get up and remain unafraid. Challenge yourselves to be happy, and I promise it'll pay off in the end!  
> Sincerely,  
> PencilPuppy
> 
> Now, here's presenting, the 2nd part of the story of Kara Zorel and Mon El Roqford of Earth. They have been through hell together, and have finally won the Games. Unfortunately for them, it doesn't end there...  
> Enjoy

He remained completely still.

With his back to the cold metallic surface of the pillar, the little boy did his best not to make even the slightest of sound. Bringing his palm to his nose, he muffled the sound of his own breathing, while trying desperately to calm his racing heart. Everything was quiet, far too quiet, causing any sound that he made, to seem amplified against the backdrop. Suddenly, a voice cut through the heavy silence.

“You can’t hide for long.”

A woman’s voice. Though soft, it had echoed all across the large walls of the room. The boy quickly pulled his arms in, trying to ensure that he remained completely hidden from view behind the pillar. He could not tell exactly where the woman was, for silence had returned quickly. Slowly, carefully, he moved his head to the side and turned. Anticipation getting the better of him, he shifted a little and tilted his head to get a better view of what lay behind him and the pillar. He carefully scanned the area, hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman he was hiding from, when all of a sudden, a pair of arms grabbed him from behind.

“Found you!”

The woman smiled as she lovingly lifted her startled son off the ground and enjoyed the look of utter surprise on his face. She held him near for a few seconds before placing him down on his feet and kneeling in front of him, coming face to face with scrunched eyebrows, the boy’s lips forming a frown.

“It's not fair!" the boy whined. "How do you always know?!" he grumbled.

The woman grinned. Ruffling her boy's dishevelled hair, she said, "A little duck tells me." Although the boy seemed nowhere near convinced with her response, he let the matter go, the frown on his face transforming into a grin not unlike the one that adorned the face of the woman in front of him. Because no matter how many times he had lost their game, he never wanted it to end. Spending time with his mother was his favourite thing to do. He loved how she made him feel so adored and safe. How, no matter where he would hide, she would always find her way to him. In a way, it assured him that she would always be there for him. That she would never leave him.

Almost as if on cue, the giant doors of the room opened, causing both mother and son to face the man that hurried in. They watched as he walked rapidly, covering the expanse of the giant room with only a few strides, and stood near them. 

“Ma’am.” the man bowed. “I apologize for the sudden intrusion, but I’m afraid it’s an emergency.” Averting his gaze to the little boy, the man decided to speak in code. “Lightning has struck,” he spoke hurriedly. “You must reach our troops immediately.”

Although the boy was unable to interpret the exact meaning of the words that were spoken, panic flashed in his eyes. The smile from seconds ago vanished, as he realized that his mother needed to be somewhere urgently. That in order to get there, she needed to leave immediately.

Leave.

“No, please,” he whimpered. Involuntarily, little arms hurriedly grabbed on to the woman’s shoulders as the boy hugged her tightly. “Don’t go.” he pleaded. Although the little boy couldn’t quite explain how or why, a sudden rush of concern had taken over him. The very thought that his mother would have to leave, filled him with dread. He felt secure arms on his back as his mother embraced him, her dark brown locks of hair covering his face like a protective shield. They stayed like that for a while, before his mother tried to gently pull him away from her. The little boy held on for as long as he could.

Bringing him to stand in front of her, she held him by his shoulders, steadying him. “Don’t worry, my love,” she said with a reassuring smile, trying to ease the dread, the fear that reflected in her son's eyes. “You have nothing to fear. I will just be gone for a little time. And I will be back soon.”

A part of him understood. It reminded him that this was nothing new. How everything was going to be okay like it always was. How his mother had left countless times before, only to be back within a short time. But a different part of him, an unknown part, filled him with misplaced anxiety. It was full of concern and fear. Of what, he wasn’t sure. All he understood was that the fear was there, clawing away at him. He was afraid of what would happen next, not because there was an immediate threat lurking nearby, but rather because he was unaware of what was to follow.

Fear of the unknown.

“But we’re not finished playing yet,” he said meekly, a final, weak attempt to convince his mother to change her mind. To stay.

To this, the woman smiled warmly. She brushed away her son’s hairs that fell over his eyes and looked at him. “You’re a very smart boy,” she said. “You know I can’t stay, right?” The boy remained still, but understood that he had lost, yet again. But this time, instead of a frown, he responded with a reassuring smile of his own. “But don’t worry,” she said in a clear voice. Looking at the messenger, who stood poised, ready for command, she continued, “Var Eth will stay with you the entire time I’m gone.” To this, Var Eth bowed to the queen.

“Now you just tuck that tail in, little duck,” she smiled as she tucked in the back of his shirt, making him realize that that was how she had found him, causing him to gape at his mother, as he noticed the mischievous smile on her face, “and everything will be fine.” She hugged her son one last time. One arm wrapped around him, while the other caressed his hair; a gesture that managed to instantly rid his mind of anxiety. The boy held on tightly. There was something about this moment that he couldn’t quite understand. There was a certain finality to it that scared him. As he hugged his mother, a distant voice told him that this would be the final time he would do so. But lost in the moment, the boy did not recognize that voice. He paid no attention to the warning in his mind. In that moment, he simply closed his eyes and embraced his mother.

“I love you very much, Lar.” she whispered.

“I love you too, mother” he responded.

When they separated, the woman got up to her feet. She nodded at Var Eth one final time, unspoken words regarding the safety of her son exchanged between them, before briskly walking towards the heavy set doors and pushing them open. The little boy tried his best to keep his mother in view, as the doors slowly moved back, hiding her, and the peaceful world outside from view. He leaned a little, hoping to catch one final glimpse, before the large, metallic doors closed shut with a dull thud. Heavy silence descended around him, as he came face to face with the reflection of a small boy’s face, his own reflection, on the polished metallic surface of the doors. He was smiling; at peace.

Suddenly, a sharp crash echoed from beyond the walls of the room, causing the boy to turn his head back, towards the direction of the sound. It was then that he suddenly realized that he was alone. Var Eth, his guardian who was standing behind him not seconds ago, the man who had sworn not to leave him alone was nowhere to be seen. 

Confused, the boy pointedly whipped his head back and faced the large palace doors again. He stared at the reflection on the metal, for it no longer belonged to a happy little boy. Instead, he was staring into the eyes of a grown man. His reflection told Lar that he was no longer a child. He was older now. Taller and stronger. His eyes were filled with worry. They had fear in them. He suddenly realized why that was.

“Mother,” he whispered to himself.

His voice sounded different, deeper, but he ignored the revelation, for his mind did not allow him to focus on anything else. Running towards the heavy set doors, he pushed them open with every ounce of strength that he had. He could hear commotion on the other side. Something was not right. As the doors slowly moved apart, through a small crack, he finally saw what lay beyond them.

He had never imagined, much less seen a destruction of this magnitude.

A part of him disagreed. 

A voice in his head reminded him of a time when he had seen all this. It made him recall the pain that had coursed through him upon encountering what he would later recognize as his final day on his planet; his world. Because he had been here before, hadn’t he? He had stood where he stood now, out the doors of the royal palace, helpless, and had stared, unable to take his eyes away, at the massive inferno that had enveloped his home world, destroying it. He couldn’t understand how he was back here, all too familiar with the screams of his people, as they tried, fruitlessly he knew, to save themselves from the fire that rained from the skies. He had dealt with the knot in his chest upon realizing that he had left his people to die, his world to perish. He had been here before, failed his people here before. Then why was he here again?

Suddenly, a man not too far from him yelled in pain. “Help Please! Someone help me!” he howled from underneath a burning chunk of concrete.

The pained voice that reached Lar's ears granted him the ability to move. He recognized it; recognized this very moment. But rather than the helplessness that he had felt before, now the voice filled him with the smallest ray of hope. Because before, he had been too young to help the man. He had been a child. But things were different now. He was stronger, faster. He could save the dying man and countless others. Var Eth couldn’t stop him from saving his people now. He couldn’t force him to think of himself first. With that in mind, he took a step in the direction of the man screaming in anguish, only to be stopped. But rather than a strong pair of hands, a voice stopped him this time.

“Lar” the strained voice whispered from behind him.

He was too afraid to turn. The voice was familiar; the tone was not. The sound belonged to a man who had spoken so softly that the words were almost inaudible over all the chaos around them. Even then, Lar had heard him. Even then, he had noticed the pain in them. It scared him. It wasn’t like he remembered. It was why even in all the commotion around him, the call of distress stood out. Lar, rooted to his spot now, turned slowly.

The shaft of an arrow that jutted out of Var Eth’s chest was the only thing that he registered.

Everything else blurred from existence. Nothing made sense. His guardian, his final memory of his home, had been shot. He racked his brain for an explanation, but could come up with nothing. The entire planet was dying. They were all doomed. Who would attack under dire circumstances such as this one?

This wasn’t how he remembered his final moments on Daxam, for it was painfully worse. Everything around them was coming to an end. Each and every person around him was going to die. So what difference did it make to kill? A wave of cold enveloped him, as he tried to rush through all the thoughts that ran through his mind faster than he could comprehend. 

In all the commotion that he endured, he failed to realize, as the scenery around him suddenly began to change. 

It took him a few seconds, before he observed with wide eyes, as the skies above and behind Var Eth transformed in colour. The reddish orange of the firestorm slowly transitioned into hues of pink and purple. The extensive castle grounds, splotched with fire, were suddenly replaced with a land filled with trees and thick green bushes. The area behind Var Eth transformed into a plain expanse of grass, while a large piece of earth fused with metal emerged in the space where the enormous castle used to be. The shape looked familiar. It resembled a large, metallic horn. Lar had never seen such a construct in all his life on Daxam. Then why did it feel as though it was a major part of his memory? Why did it remind him of a time that he so desperately wanted to forget; one that he couldn’t remember in the first place. All of a sudden, he remembered.

The Cornucopia.

A jolt of what felt like electricity ran through him, as he remembered the visual that he was suddenly placed in. He recognized every aspect of it. The dense forest, the trees, the bushes, all of it came to mind one-by-one. He had spent time in this hell. Time that he had desperately wanted to forget, but knew that he could never. He recognized the hopelessness that filled him. The pain, the fear. Worst of all, he recognized the familiarity of the weight in his hand. It was strange, for he was empty-handed mere seconds ago. But going by his surroundings, it felt natural. 

Frightened of what the next moment had in store for him, he slowly, with great difficulty, moved his eyes away from the arrow in Var Eth’s chest and looked down at his own hand.

Frozen in place, he stared at the object in his hand with wide, shocked eyes.

Lar forgot how to breathe. A numbness took over his body, resonating with the sudden, unbearable silence that had taken over his mind. All senses failed him, as he could perceive nothing around him anymore. Nothing but the familiar object that he held in his hand. A split second passed. Just as suddenly and abruptly as they had disappeared, thoughts rushed through his mind again, disrupting the silence. They became so loud, so unbearable that it almost brought him to his knees. But he stood still, staring at his hand.

Because in his hand, he held the bow; the bow that had shot the arrow at Var Eth.

Suddenly, it all became clear. Answers to the many questions from before, now rushed through his mind. It made so much sense now. Who would, under such dire circumstances, where death was the inevitable outcome for all, try to claim an innocent life? The answer was simple. Because not all were meant to die. There was someone on that planet who would live through the explosion. Who would witness the death of his people along with his home world, but would not die himself. He was the only one who had a motive to kill. Because he was the only one who would survive the destruction of Daxam.

Mon El had killed Var Eth.

Hopelessness took over. Without warning, a shudder ran through his entire body, as he tried to move, to scream, to react in any way possible. But he could do nothing. He was paralyzed, stuck in his own mind. The fear that had once enveloped him as a child, was now replaced by pure, unadulterated guilt. It crept from the back of his mind and suffocated his senses. A part of him desperately argued that this wasn’t how he remembered his final memories of Daxam. This wasn’t how things had happened. A larger part countered. It reminded him that he had indeed left Var Eth and everyone that he cared about to die. He had survived at the expense of people from his own world. There was only one escape pod. But it hadn’t saved Var Eth, or his mother or the man that he had found burning to death, or any other, deserving Daxamite. The pod had been used to save him. 

Mon El was trembling now. Staring at the weapon in his hand, he was reminded of everything that he had been through in a situation similar to this one. How he had killed a tribute, an alien and had lived with it. The guilt was a constant, the pain unbearable. Just as he felt as though he would collapse due to all the turmoil, a voice in his head suddenly spoke up. It reminded him not of the arrow, but of what had followed it. 

Instantly, Mon El jerked his head up. Panic clear in his eyes, he watched as Var Eth was slowly stumbling back. It was at that moment, when Mon El felt fear in its worst form. He had a clear view of the wires that surrounded the Cornucopia. Of the ground that he had rigged to explode the moment anyone set foot on it. The area that Var Eth was about to step on.

Still too numb to move, Mon El looked into his guardian’s eyes, hoping to express the urgency of the situation. But Var Eth simply smiled. Unlike the dread that had settled in Mon El’s eyes, Var Eth looked as though he was at peace. Mon El watched, paralyzed, as his guardian spoke in a voice that was almost far too muffled to interpret. But Mon El knew. He understood instantly what his guardian had chosen as his final words, and the guilt grew tenfold.

“Bailat Daxam.”

Blood rushed through him as oxygen filled his lungs, and he suddenly found his lost ability to move. His body jump-started itself, waking his mind from the numbness. Just as he saw his protector slowly falling back on the motion-sensitive ground, he screamed,

“Var Eth NO!”

It was too little, too late, for the moment those words escaped him, the surroundings exploded. The ground below him shook violently, while the skies fluctuated between the purple of the arena and the red of Daxam. Massive chunks of ground fused with lead flew in all directions, while fire from the inferno rained down on Daxam. The Cornucopia had shattered, a large piece of which was heading towards Mon El. He was too shocked to move. Too stunned to comprehend anything beyond the loss of his guardian at his own hands. The piece of lead was nearing him.

At the last second, someone grabbed his arm and pulled him away.

That was when he suddenly woke up in his bed.

His mind was still in a frame of panic, as he had suddenly found himself in a confused, dazed state. He was sweating. His heart was thumping away, while his eyes were still unsure of reality. He had barely noticed the surroundings and had taken note of the nightmare when all of a sudden, arms grabbed him and pulled him into a hug. Panicked, he was about to push them away, when instinct told him otherwise. ‘The touch,’ he reminded himself. He could barely feel the arms at all. 

That was when a state that somewhat resembled sanity started to return. He realized multiple things at once. He was not on Daxam (the realization was more a habit now than anything else), he had not killed Var Eth (the guilt was still there, telling him otherwise), and he was not in any danger at the moment. It was all just a nightmare (except for Daxam). He was in his bedroom, safe from the Capitol, away from the arena. He slowly looked besides him. That was when he finally calmed down. 

Maya.

The girl was standing near the bed, and had embraced her brother as tightly as she possibly could, trying to calm him down. Mon El waited a second, before reciprocating the hug, careful not to use all his strength. It took another few seconds to realize that Maya was saying something.

“It’s okay. It’s alright. You’re home, you’re safe.”

The girl kept repeating those words, her voice more scared than soothing like she intended it to be, until Mon El finally pulled her away from him and looked at her. He noticed fear clouding her eyes. But Maya wasn’t crying. Though worried, she was trying her best to remain calm. It made Mon El realize that she was trying to be strong for him; to be there for him.

“Are you okay?” Maya asked in a controlled voice, searching her brother’s face for signs of distress.

Mon El took a second to consider everything. He knew from the lack of sunlight in his room, that it was still relatively early. Maya was an early riser, but she didn’t wake up before sunrise. The fact that she was awake, here, meant she was checking in on him. Did he scream in his sleep? Or was she just passing by? Maybe he shorted out the house circuits again. Either way, he knew one thing for sure. He had woken her up. Caused her to worry and be afraid.

He hated this.

He hated when his inability to deal with his problems caused the people that he cared about to suffer. The nightmares were a constant now. He couldn’t stop those (he had tried), but the least he could do was not burden the people closest to him. With that in mind, he took a deep breath and blinked a few times, before looking at Maya again, his facial expressions different from before.

“I’m fine,” he said convincingly, brushing off the moments of distress from seconds ago. “It’s fine, it was just a dream.” Not giving Maya a chance to respond, he quickly deflected, “I’m sorry, did I wake you?” 

Studying the looks on her face, Mon El could tell that his sister was taken aback by his response. The expressions however quickly resembled a touch of defeat, as though she was let down by his response. Mon El understood the reason, but also knew that he couldn’t let her in on his anxiety. It was something he needed to deal with on his own.

“No,” Maya replied. “I was- I was on my way to get a cup of water and thought I heard something from your room,” she provided a feeble explanation. Unconvincing in every way to the Career.

Both siblings knew that the other was lying. Yet, both didn’t question the other any further.

“Well, I’m fine,” Mon El responded, trying to remove every bit of doubt from Maya’s eyes. “It was just a dream, I’m okay now.” He paused a little, ensuring that the girl was convinced (as convinced as she could be). Once sure, he continued, “Look, it’s still pretty early. We’ve got a big day ahead of us. You should go back to sleep,” he said in a soft voice, but with authority. “Could you do that for me, please?”

He waited for a few seconds, before Maya finally nodded and embraced him one last time. He wished her good night with a practiced smile, which she reciprocated with a terse smile of her own, and left the room, closing the door behind her.

As soon as the door was closed, Mon El closed his eyes. The smile on his face vanished, while the tears that he had been holding back came rushing down. He held his head in his hands, trying to ease the pain that he felt, that he had felt ever since he had returned home. Rubbing his forehead, he tried to calm himself as much as he could. That was when he noticed the tremor in his right hand. It had been happening ever since his first nightmare after returning. There were moments, when his hand would shake violently. He had tried to make it stop, but had failed to do so, for a part of him would remind him of the reason behind it. His right hand was the one he had used to release the arrow. That was the hand that he had used to kill people.

To kill Sam.

He quickly got up. Before his mind could spiral down a dark, neverending path, he forced himself to move, to do something, anything to distract himself. Clutching his right hand with his left, he tried to stop the trembling as best as he could. Once it was in control, he stared through the window at the world that lay outside. The sun wasn’t up yet, but it would rise in an hour or so. He had a view of the forest that lay on the outskirts of the District. A fresh breeze was causing the large trees to sway gently. It made him feel suffocated in his own room. Although this room in their victor’s village home was much more spacious than his previous one, he suddenly felt as though the walls were closing in on him. He couldn’t stay. He needed to leave.

He needed to distract himself from everything.

With that in mind, he took in a deep breath and quickly rushed out the door.

He couldn’t remain still anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank You so much for reading. Honestly, it feels amazing to be back here. I look forward to your comments and as depressing as things were in this chapter (I am so sorry!) rest assured, that our space puppies are strong enough to get through it all. After all, the name of this part is "Survivor"!  
> I will be updating weekly, just like for part 1 and although I haven't really planned the specifics yet, I know how I plan on ending this part. All I would like to say is that it's gonna be a roller coaster! So buckle up!  
> Next up: Kara Zorel!  
> Until Next Time!


	2. Daydreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I will be okay. I always am,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emotions, anyone??

She relished the quiet.

Closing her eyes, Kara felt the cool forest breeze against her face. She took a moment to relish the peace, the quiet around her. When she was younger, she yearned for a calm like this. One that wasn’t tainted by the constant noise that her enhanced hearing picked up. One that wasn’t burdened by the overwhelming of her superhuman senses. It had taken years to get her abilities under control. Years to even step out the walls of her house without closing her eyes and clutching her ears in pain. But now, after years of practice with the help of her Earth parents, as well as the discipline of her Kryptonian mind, she finally understood what moments of peace felt like.

When she opened her eyes, she took in the view. The sun was beginning to rise. Specks of golden sunlight emerged from behind the tall trees of the forest, creating a halo-like visual. The trees were swaying gently, while dew drops on the lush green leaves shone in even the small amount of sunlight that had managed to sneak through the cover of the thick green bushes. Winter was on the horizon. The air was cool, made even more so by the presence of the scenic waterfall in front of her. She especially enjoyed how the sunrays danced off of the surface of the water that gently, lazily flowed for some distance only to pick up speed near the edge and rush down the steep slope. 

Kara looked at the expanse of the river. She took note of the sheer volume of water that fell over the edge and splashed down in the lake below, causing a cloud of mist to float up in the air. Then, closing her eyes once again, she inhaled deeply, letting the perfumed air of the forest greet her nose. This time when she opened her eyes, she looked down at the water and blew gently over the surface.

A blast of cool air shot from her mouth and as soon as it reached the stream of water that was flowing by, a thin, crystalline layer of ice began forming on the water surface. Just like that, the stream began slowing down until a few seconds later, when it came to a complete halt. A crystal layer spread gently across the river, freezing the water along its path. The water falling over the edge slowed down. It took a little longer to freeze it, but once it did, it stopped before it could reach the ground, forming icy stalactites, the tips barely touching the surface of the now icy lake below. Unlike the natural process of a waterfall freezing over the span of a few months, the waterfall in the forest in the outskirts of District 12, froze within seconds, the reason simply being that an external,  _ alien _ factor was involved.

Kara stood back to admire her work.

The frozen falls somehow managed to look even more scenic than before. The sunlight now bounced off of a clear layer of ice, making the entire scenery look a lot brighter than before. The visual was bizarre. Winter was near, but it certainly hadn’t arrived yet. To add to it, a frozen river amidst green trees and lush bushes that were entirely devoid of snow, was not something one could expect to see commonly. Owing to its rarity, the scene looked even more marvelous, more peaceful than before. Kara loved the view.

“Oh my gosh!”

As it turned out, there was someone who appreciated the entire thing even more than Kara did.

“Kara, this is magnificent!” Eve exclaimed. She was staring at the river with her mouth wide open. Shock and amazement reflected from her eyes, as she stood rooted to her spot near the river. She remained like that for a few seconds before walking towards the frozen surface and taking a closer look. Kara watched, as her best friend cautiously lifted her foot and lightly stepped on the surface of the water, testing its strength.

“That’s pretty solid!” Eve exclaimed, appearing more impressed by the second. 

Kara smiled.

For the Kryptonian, to display her strengths openly, without fear, was a rare occurrence. In the sixteen years that she had spent on Terra, she had understood one thing fairly clearly. Terrans were a guarded race. Their tolerance to accepting something new, something unknown was rather limited. To them, anything unknown was theoretically categorized into two: that which they could decipher, and that which they could not. The former included things that they could control, while the latter consisted of elements that were beyond their realm of authority. 

Humans feared anything that fell in the second category. Kara Zorel, an alien from a planet that Earth was quite oblivious to the existence of, would be feared. 

But not all humans prescribed such beliefs. There were some in a world as forlorn as this one, who were willing to give an outsider a chance to survive. Who were willing to put aside their prejudices, their fears, and ensure that an otherworldly being such as herself could get all the help that she required in order to live another day.

And Eve, Kara’s best friend for all her time on Terra, was one such human.

‘There had existed another such human,’ Kara reminded herself. A little girl that she had met in the arena for the 74th Annual Hunger Games. But before those thoughts that she was trying so hard to keep away could come flooding back, Kara forced her mind to stop.

“So, how long is this gonna stay like this?” Eve’s question provided a welcome distraction for Kara, breaking her train of thought. She noticed how her friend was now standing near the edge of the falls, eying the sizable lake that lay below.

“Well, it usually stays intact for about a week,” Kara replied. “But since we’re outdoors, I’d say about four to five days.”

At this, Eve finally turned away from the frozen falls and looked at Kara. Confusion and concern covered her eyes, as she voiced her worry. “Well, then… What do we do now? I mean, we can’t just leave a frozen lake here in the middle of a forest that doesn't have even a speck of snow. What if someone were to come through here?”

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to melt it,” Kara answered, cheekily, stifling a smile, trying to appear as serious as possible. One look at Eve told her that her response was not in the least appreciated.

With raised brows, Eve responded. “Oh sure, let’s melt the ice. Why don’t we start with, oh I don’t know, burning down a tree?! Or how about I go home and get my hair-dryer?!” she asked, sarcastically.

To this, Kara smiled, a look of mischievousness working across her face. “Well, you’re welcome to try that, but I had something else in mind.” She stepped forward and faced the chunk of ice that used to be a river. Before anything else, however, she turned to Eve and said, “You might wanna step back for this part.” Once her friend was away from the edge of the falls, Kara turned to look at the frozen stream again. She closed her eyes and a moment later, opened them. As soon as she did, two fiery beams of hot red laser shot out of her eyes, and met the slab of ice in front of her in two concentrated points. A cloud of mist emanated as the ice sizzled under the laser beams. Within seconds, large cracks began appearing in what had previously seemed as an unbreakable chunk of solid ice. In what may have been a minute, the entire chunk gave way to liquid water that quickly began flowing down the well defined path of the stream, transforming into the majestic falls at the edge. Just like that, the frozen falls returned to its former glory and everything, barring the mist and vapour, became normal again.

Kara waited until the cloud of mist cleared. When it did, she observed her friend, who was, yet again, in a state of utter shock. Eve appeared frozen, much like the falls had just been. With wide eyes, she was all but gaping at the lazy flow of the water, having an extremely difficult time processing what she had just seen.

“I think that should do it,” Kara said amusingly.

Eve slowly turned to face her, disbelief quickly giving way to a look of amazement. “Unbelievable!” she exclaimed, chuckling, just as Kara began laughing too, no longer able to control her mirth. It took a while for both the women from 12 to recover from their bout of hilarity. When they finally did, Eve was the one to speak first.

“This truly is... amazing,” she said, a wide smile plastered on her face. “I can’t believe I was able to witness something as... incredible as this!” she exclaimed. Before she continued further, the grin on her face gave way to a milder, more sincere smile. “Thank you Kara, for trusting me with this.”

“What do you mean?” Kara asked, confused with her friend’s gratitude. “You’re my best friend, of course I trust you.”

“No, I know that, it’s just,” she paused, as though trying to figure out her next words. “It must be difficult. I mean I can only imagine what it must be like for you, living here, surviving on a planet like this. I know you were scared and I know it wasn’t easy for you to share your origin with me. I’m just glad that you did. I’m glad you can trust me with a secret as big as this one.”

Kara remained quiet for a while, as she considered what Eve had just said. She couldn’t help but feel honoured to have a friend as sincere as Eve. She truly was fortunate to have a friend as her.

“You’re right,” Kara replied. “Surviving on Terra wasn’t like anything I could have imagined. The people, the lifestyle, the languages, I had no idea how to deal with everything. I mean I had mom and dad, I was so fortunate that they were there for me. But it didn’t change the fact that everything was so scary for the first few years. I remember the first time when I went out to the forest on my own. I was returning back and right when I reached the fence, a peacekeeper was there. There was no way I could’ve returned without him seeing me, so I hid behind the trees. But right at that moment, someone else saw me.”

The memory brought a smile to both Kara and Eve’s faces.

“You saw me hiding there,” Kara continued, “and you understood that I was in trouble. So you distracted the peacekeeper, told him there was a turkey loose in the labs! The moment he ran off to check, you helped me cross the fence and we got home.”

Kara remembered how grateful she had felt that day. Although she had failed to recognize why the girl had helped her at all, she had been indebted to her generosity. It was from that day on that Eve had become a friend; Kara's best friend.

“You've always been there for me, Eve," she continued in a sincere tone. “I can’t tell you how much having you around has meant to me. I mean you’ve helped me so much adjusting to my life on Terra, without even knowing it. It’s a debt I can never repay. If anything, I just feel guilty for not telling you my secret a long time ago.”

At this, Eve replied with knitted brows. “Why would you feel guilty? You know Earth is not exactly welcoming to strangers. You had every right to be secretive, to be cautious with something as big as this. It’s your secret to tell, Kara. You don’t owe it to anyone, even me.”

Yet again, Kara could sense the sincerity in Eve’s voice. It was her honesty and her courage to believe in what was right, was what had made Kara trust her in the first place. She had infinite positivity to spare, especially for those in need. Even in a world as bleak as one where the Hunger Games existed, Eve was a ray of sunshine for people. She was never afraid of her thoughts and always willing to believe in the righteousness of humanity.

“To be honest, after I found out that you’re an alien, I kinda felt guilty myself.”

Eve’s statement confused Kara. She could think of no possible explanation, no possible outcome wherein Eve needed to feel guilty at all about the situation. Kara was the one who had hidden the truth from her best friend. She was the one who had taken this long to reveal her origins to her, wasn’t she?

She realized that her confusion may have been clearly visible, for Eve quickly explained. “I was the one who replaced your names. In a way, I guess, I was kinda responsible for my name getting picked and you volunteering. Knowing now, that this is a foreign world for you, and after everything you've been through already, I feel horrible to be the reason that you had to go through everything that happened in the arena.”

“That’s not at all true.” Kara spoke up, her tone flabbergasted. “How can you even think that?!” she exclaimed. “Eve, you had nothing to do with any of it. How could you have possibly caused your name to get picked? Volunteering was my decision, and I am glad that I took it. The very fact that you replaced my names with yours so we could have an equal chance at survival just proves how courageous you are. You have nothing to feel guilty about.”

Eve paused for a few seconds, before responding. “Well then, neither do you.”

To this, Kara couldn’t help but smile. She realized how, quite like her, determined her best friend was. She would do anything to ensure that her best friend would not lose hope, no matter the situation. It was a quality Kara could relate to. It was one of the many reasons she appreciated her best friend.

“Truce?” Kara smiled.

Eve mirrored her smile, before nodding and replying with, “Truce.”

With that, both friends hugged. In that very moment, Kara couldn’t help but feel relaxed. It brought a smile to her face as she realized how similar she was to Eve in ideals and habits. They were like sisters. Strong-headed sisters who fought with each other, but always found a truce in the end. She didn’t even realize how her mind was at ease for the first time in so long. Everything was going to be alright now. She would be okay.

Suddenly, the crunching of dry leaves snapped her back to reality and caused her to sharply turn her head in the direction of the sound.

Just like that the peace disappeared. The relief that she was feeling not seconds ago was nowhere to be seen. Her smile vanished, as she suddenly felt all her senses going on alert. Sounds attacked her from all directions while her eyes involuntarily scanned the area surrounding them, with her enhanced vision. The sun was up now, but instead of the soft rays of light, harsh beams hit the surrounding area causing Kara to squint in pain. Her mind was under attack with questions born from her own frenzy. What had caused the sound? Who was there? Someone was near. Who? It didn’t matter. Because the main cause of worry was that someone was near. They had company.

And company was never a good thing in the arena.

Instantly, her Kryptonian mind pushed away the many thoughts that were making it difficult to form a strategy. She needed to figure out a plan. A way to escape this. What this was, she wasn’t sure. All she knew now, was that she was in danger. She needed to ensure that they survived whatever trouble lay ahead. She needed to get them out. It was her responsibility.

With that in mind, she grabbed Eve by the arm and pulled her behind her, shielding her from the unseen danger. Eve was saying something, but Kara ignored it. She focussed her senses on their surroundings. She needed to find out who was there. Who had caused the sound. A sharp pain filled her chest. Her heart-rate had suddenly increased. Her throat was closing up, making it difficult to breathe. But she ignored all of it. She had to survive this. She had to get them out. That was all she could think of. That was all she cared about.

“Kara…”

She had no weapons to fight. No way to defend themselves. She hurriedly looked around her, but found nothing but pebbles and sticks peppered across the large forest floor. She couldn’t use those as weapons. Not when she had no idea what she was up against. Was it another tribute? Or was it one of the Capitol mutations? A voice in her head, a distant one, one that didn't belong to her told her to focus on their feet. What if it wasn’t a light mirage? What if more than one mutt show up? She could make use of her powers, but a strong voice in her head warned her against it. ‘They could be watching,’ it told her. ‘They’re always watching.’

“Kara…”

‘The most important thing,’ she reminded herself, ‘was to remain calm.’ She had to avoid panicking, because the moment one panicked in the arena, a death occurred. And she had to avoid that at all costs. She couldn’t even stand the idea of witnessing, much less causing another death. She couldn’t, wouldn’t let that happen. She could not afford to panic. But then why was it so difficult to calm down? She could feel herself shivering violently. She felt dizzy as her eyes tried to focus on the blurred images in front of her. She tried to blink away the out-of-focus view of the forest, but realized that she could not. Even in the open space of the forest, she felt as though imaginary walls were closing in. She wanted to get out of all this. She was struggling to get out. But no matter what, she could not. She was stuck in a maze; a labyrinth of her own creation. And there was no way out. She was lost here forever. Stuck here forever.

“KARA!”

The outcry, coupled with the slight touch of Eve’s hands grabbing on to Kara’s shoulders, shaking her as though trying to wake her, was what brought her back to reality. It took her a while to get her overwhelmed senses to reject the innumerous noises of the forest and zero down on Eve’s voice. It took her a few more seconds to decipher what she was saying.

“You’re safe. You’re in the forest outside of 12. You’re home. You’re not there anymore.”

As her mind slowly registered the words, a feeling of dread filled her. She slowly turned her attention to the state she was in. Her breathing was laboured. She wiped the beads of sweat on her forehead and noticed how she was shivering violently. A part of her was still dizzy, as she was having trouble telling up from down. The remnants of a headache still clogged her mind while a numbness suppressed the many thoughts that she could make no sense of. In all the chaos, two words stood out.

Panic attack.

Kara hated this. She hated how routine every aspect of the attack had become. She hated how even the smallest of things such as the dull sound of the forests could trigger such a reaction from her. She had tried her best to suppress it; to overcome it. But with time, it had just gotten worse. Worst of all, she hated how there was never a warning before it. Nothing to prepare her for it. Just like now. One moment she was happy, relaxed, spending time with her best friend. And the next…

Eve.

The realization that she was not alone, pulled her from her reverie, as she slowly turned to see the one thing she hated to see. At some point during the ordeal, Kara had fallen to her knees. Eve was staring at her with wide, worried eyes. Kneeling besides her, she had held on to Kara’s shoulders and was trying to calm her down. Kara noticed that Eve’s lips were still moving. She was saying something.

“Are you okay?!” Eve blurted out in an anxious, panicked voice.

A few deep breaths later, Kara finally found her voice and responded. “Eve, I… I’m- I’m fine.” Closing her eyes, Kara rubbed her forehead. This was what she hated about the aftermath of the Games more than anything. It wasn’t the pain or the panic attacks or even the nightmares. She could control all of those; suppress them. The one thing that was beyond her control however, where she was truly helpless, was when people that she cared about had to watch her suffer, and in the process, suffer themselves. 

Eve did not deserve this. She hadn’t been in the arena. She couldn’t possibly know what it was like and that was how it needed to be. She had to stay away from all this. Away from the memories that haunted Kara. Away from the many outbursts that Kara could not control. Away from Kara.

“I’m fine. I just-I think I just need some air,” Kara spoke with her eyes closed. When she opened them, she could see that Eve was nowhere near convinced. But before she could refute, Kara quickly continued. “It’s okay, everything- everything’s fine. Look it’s not that frequent now, and it’s nothing severe. It passes.”

“But Kara-”

“Eve, I’ll be fine. I just need some time alone.” Kara cut her off. Standing up, she walked across from Eve and faced the opposite direction, ensuring to look away while keeping a stoic face. She quickly recognized that her steps were unsteady, but she instantly willed herself to appear firm. “You should get back, I’ll be there in a bit-”

“It’s getting worse now.” This time Eve cut her off, causing Kara to turn and face her. “This isn’t okay,” Eve continued. “ I can’t see you like this. None of us can. Kara you can’t keep bottling it up. You need to talk about what you’re going through.”

“I’m not going through anything. I’m fine, Eve,” Kara responded.

“This is not nothing, Kara. This is serious,” Eve replied. “You’re hurting and as the people who care about you, we just wanna help.”

“But you can’t!” Kara exclaimed. A moment of silence passed, before Kara spoke again. “Look, I know you and mom and dad and Henry, you’re all just trying to help. But this is something- you can’t help me with this. It’s something I have to deal with on my own.” Right as Eve began to protest, Kara quickly continued, “Trust me. Alright, I will get through this, I promise. Right now, the best way you guys can help me is by ensuring that you don’t suffer because of me.”

Both of them remained silent as they took some time to consider the exact implications of Kara’s words. After a tense few silent minutes, Eve finally spoke up. 

“I don’t know if leaving you alone right now is such a good idea,” she said hurriedly, worry reflecting in her voice.

To this, Kara gave her a terse smile. Because she understood that she had managed to almost convince Eve to leave. She just needed to drive the point home. Therefore, although she felt nothing like it, Kara smiled. “I will be okay. I always am,” she said with as much certainty as she could muster. “It’s late already,” she continued. “You need to cross the fence and get back home before anyone sees you.”

“What about you?” Eve countered.

“I won’t be long. I’ll sneak through. And besides, if I get stuck, you can always just set a turkey loose in the labs again.”

Kara smiled much more convincingly this time. She could see that Eve was still worried. She was not nearly as convinced as Kara would have liked her to be. But this would have to do now. Eve couldn’t stay. Kara had to deal with this on her own.

After a long moment, Eve finally responded. “Just be careful,” she said apprehensively. “And hurry back, they’ll be arriving in a couple of hours.” She paused for a second, before concluding,“I don’t like this one bit.”

“Thanks,” Kara said, gratefully. 

Eve did not agree with leaving her best friend alone. Especially after how wounded she had seemed not seconds ago. However, the one thing that she had learned about Kara Zorel in all the years that she had known her, it was that she was a determined girl, not unlike herself. So, she knew there was no point arguing. She had lost this fight. She had to leave now. But owing to how wrong it felt, Eve left with a frown and lines of worry on her face.

A while later, when she was sure that Eve had safely crossed the District fence, Kara finally let her guard down. She suddenly felt weak, frail. She knew she needed to have her reaction. She knew Eve was right. She needed to let it all out. But she couldn’t afford to do so. She was not human. She was an alien who possessed the ability to burn down the entire planet. She couldn’t react; couldn't let this get to her.

So she did what she had been doing for the past month since she had returned home. She reeled it in. Suppressing the turmoil, she forced herself to forget. She couldn’t let this keep on happening. She had to discipline her mind. Closing her eyes, she focussed solely on the silence around her, when

The sound of footsteps shattered the quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo..... A couple of things to address:  
> 1\. The title was chosen deliberately. I am so sorry (but also not sorry!)  
> 2\. So, the way I see it, Kara is going through a lot right now. After everything that happened in the Games, she's hit. She's hurting. But she has told herself that if she just bottles it up, there will come a time where she would be able to just move on. She has herself convinced that if she avoids talking about her time in the arena, that she can just escape it. So, she's going through that right now.  
> 3\. Eve is a sweetheart!  
> 4\. So, the waterfalls.... Hmmm, I wonder where we've read about those falls before...?!
> 
> Thank You for Reading!  
> Until Next Time!


	3. Working Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a boy from Daxam and a girl from Krypton...!

Alone.

Leaning against a tree trunk, Mon El tried to catch his breath. He had been running for hours now, he could tell, for the sun was up, showering the vast green forest with sunlight. The winds, though warmer now, still managed to provide a fresh change of pace from the technology-infused air of District 2. He had left home far behind now. Although Mon El wasn’t running at his top speed, he was still faster than an average human. Hours later, he now stood deep into the forest that lay forbidden beyond the boundaries of not only his District, but of occupied Panem grounds as well. To reach where he stood now, an average human, starting from 2 would take an entire day on foot, perhaps longer. It was why he always came here. It was one of the few places he could be sure was not under the unrelenting supervision of the Capitol. Here he could be alone; be himself.

Another reason that the alien loved to come here, was because of the sheer beauty of the area that surrounded him. It was among the most scenic views he had ever seen. A meadow. Though simple in its very nature, perhaps the last thing that one expected in a forest as dense and full of thick green trees in every direction, it existed with a grandeur of its own. Fresh green grass, surrounded a clear blue lake that was the terminating point of majestic waterfalls that remained hidden from view from far away. It was abrupt, surprising for such a spectacle to exist here; a patch of serenity in an otherwise teeming forest. It was as though nature had decided to fill the grounds with an abundance of trees, save for this one small patch. Grass was the ruler here. It coloured the grounds with a green much lighter than that of the deep green that dominated everywhere else. 

The lake was another story altogether. Shallow, but deep in colour, it took up a major portion of the meadow. The water flowed outward, energetic near the centre, becoming gentler on its way out, before stilling entirely near the edge of the lake. Given where it lay geographically, Mon El suspected the lake to be the remainders of one of the largest lakes of the prehistoric times. He had read about them in school. Owing to massive shifts in land, the entire landmass of the world had come together to create the nation that was now known as Panem. In the process, numerous natural phenomena had changed in ways that only nature could manage. The falls were mid-heighted now, but Mon El guessed that they too had a glorious past. Even then, given how out of place they looked, the falls seemed much taller. The invigorating fall of the large amounts of water down the steep edge, was uplifting. The knowledge that what used to be a massive lake once, was now turned into a trivial waterbody, stripped of its glory, was humbling to Mon El. He could appreciate just how much could change with time. 

He had found this place when he was twelve Earth-years old. His father had brought him out to the forests to test out his abilities, in order to help him get a grip on them. He had run faster than ever before that day, stopping only because he had tripped and quite literally stumbled upon the meadow. After that, his visits to the falls had only increased in number. He had learned how to fly here, falling for some distance, just like the falls, only to ascend halfway along the path, defying the gravity that pulled the water down. When Maya had grown old enough to venture into the woods along with him, he had flown her here.

The meadows had seen Mon El at his best and worst, for when his father had died, he had come here and unleashed his powers in agony, in an attempt to make the pain stop. After the death of Hector Roqford, home had no longer felt okay. The meadow had become his safe place. Here, he could be himself. When he had been utterly hopeless, the meadow had taught him to hope again. Because it was here that he had found the necklace that had reminded him that he was a survivor. That he could get through it all. This place had reminded him of who he was, and given him the opportunity to be himself. Without pain. Without fear.

Although relatively closer to 2’s neighbouring district, District 12, Mon El had never seen anyone wander the area in general, with the exception of a man he had seen a long time ago. The man, presumably from 12, hadn’t noticed Mon El, for the alien had quickly hidden behind a tree and had been observing the man from there. That was when he had seen the little girl who was with the man. She seemed around the same age as Mon El. He had remembered the girl for quite some time after that encounter, mainly for two reasons, the first being that she had among the bluest eyes he had ever seen. Like comets, they were.

The second, because she had done something impossible. She had flown.

Mon El had all but gaped, unable to believe what he was seeing. The girl had shot through the air. Seconds later she had disappeared in the sky. It had taken Mon El’s enhanced vision to find her again, for that was how high and how fast she had flown. It was bizarre in the truest sense. A part of him had instantly become hopeful. It had entertained the possibility that he wasn’t alone on Terra. But another part of him, a major part, had squashed that hope. It had warned him of the ill effects of hope. After the encounter, he had looked for the mysterious girl countless times. But with time, the hope had disappeared again, while the encounter had existed in his memory as only an illusion; a desperate attempt of a child who no longer wished to be the only one of his kind in the world. To no longer be alone.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

The words pulled him from his reverie, back to reality. It made him realize that unlike the many times he had come to the meadow before, he wasn’t alone now. He had company. But rather than panic, the awareness automatically brought a smile to his face. Because he recognized the voice. 

He slowly turned and came face to face with the bluest eyes he had ever seen.

His smile only grew upon seeing her. Within seconds, he could feel all his worries being washed away. His mind was at peace; a different kind of peace. One that could come only with being in the company of another alien not unlike himself. When he was a kid, he had brushed away memories of the girl who could fly as the desperate plea of a child. ‘It didn’t really happen,’ he had told himself for years. Now, he wasn’t as sure. 

He wasn’t alone anymore.

“You shouldn’t be wandering the forest all by yourself,” Kara continued, mockery clear in her voice. “I hear there’s a Kryptonian that lives nearby, and given how your planets never really got along, I’m guessing you wouldn’t want to run into her.”

Mon El suppressed his own smile, deciding to play along. “Yeah, I know who you’re talking about,” he replied in a tone as serious as hers. “The Kryptonian in 12, right? Blonde hair, quite stupporn, the exact opposite of me, when you think about it. You know, I’m super-fun. She’s hypocritical.”

“More like, you’re an arrogant dude-bro and she’s the personification of all that is good on Earth,” Kara instantly responded, with raised eyebrows.

To this, Mon El smiled, the look of astonishment on his face. “Oh I’m sorry, and I’m arrogant?” he asked, sarcastically.

This caused Kara to finally give in, as she broke into a chuckle. Seconds later, both aliens were grinning widely, nothing but pure happiness in their mind. It was rare for either of them to experience happiness for long. It was why both the Kryptonian as well as the Daxamite appreciated moments like these immensely.

“What are you doing out here?” Kara spoke first, her tone genuine now. 

This caused the smile on Mon El’s face to slip a little. It reminded him of how he had spent the past few hours. How he had begun running long before sunrise, and had been running ever since. How the wind on his face helped clear his mind. He hadn’t been running at his top speed. The reason being that holding back, practicing control on his powers provided him with a much welcome distraction from all the things that had caused him to come to the forest in the first place. 

A distraction from the nightmare.

But he didn’t let any of it show. Not letting his smile diminish any further, he spoke in a convincing manner. “Oh, just out for a run. Great weather we’re having.” he said gesturing to the forest around them.

It was convincing, for it was partly true. But the Kryptonian was far from convinced.

Sensing this, Mon El quickly continued, “What uh- what about you? What’re you doing here?”

The look of doubt quickly left her face entirely. Mon El observed, as Kara quickly looked away, her eyes focussing on some random point on the ground, rather than looking at Mon El. “Oh, yeah, the same,” she said hastily. “The cool breeze of the forest feels incredible early in the morning. So uh- yeah,” she finished, a little hurriedly.

But Mon El didn’t notice any of it. He was too busy taking note of the crinkle on her forehead.

“Did you know that you get this little uh- this little crinkle?” Pointing to his own forehead, he continued, “Right up there, when you lie.”

Mon El enjoyed how taken aback Kara could seem.

“I don’t have a crinkle!” she rebutted defensively.

“Yeah you’re-you’re crinkling right now,” he said, shaking his head a little.

“I don’t-I don’t crin-!”

“You’re crinkling at the moment.”

“I don’t crinkle!” she said, increasing her volume just a little. “And I also don’t lie, I never lie. I’m a Kryptonian. We’re known to be among the sincerest, most honest races in the universe.” She paused for a few seconds before muttering, “Unlike some other races I know.”

It was now Mon El’s turn to seem incredulous. “Oh wow!” He exclaimed. “That is unbelievable. That is off-the-charts unbelievable!”

“Well, it’s no secret. Daxamites are known as a race of thieves and liars, so-”

“That is such a Kryptonian thing to say. I mean here I am, trying to have a nice, open conversation with you, and you’re accusing me of being a thief!”

“You did steal my necklace, so-” Kara shrugged her shoulders.

“Wha-excuse me? I did not steal your necklace.” Mon El continued in an incredulous tone. “You dropped it, in the woods, and I found it later on.”

“So, you took something that did not belong to you, without the intent of ever giving it back.” Kara continued. “That’s called stealing.” she said matter-of-factly. “That is the definition of stealing.”

“Is it?!” he exclaimed

“Yeah, it is!” she replied.

They stayed like that for a few seconds. Both challenging the other and neither backing down. A moment passed and suddenly, both aliens broke into laughter. To anyone observing, everything would seem far too confusing. A Kryptonian and a Daxamite were laughing together, when mere seconds ago, they had seemed ready to go to war. But to Kara and Mon El, things were better than they had ever been. For they had each found someone like them. Someone that they could reminisce about their home worlds with. They had found each other.

Mon El was the first to recover from the fit of laughter. “You know you can have the necklace back, right?” he asked earnestly.

Kara quickly replied, her tone equally as earnest. “No, Maya gave it to you before the Games. It belongs to you now. Frankly, it feels nice to know that you have it.” 

They fell silent again. The quiet was peaceful, for their minds were at ease. Both Kara and Mon El weren’t as familiar with the calm that had surrounded them whenever they had met over the past month after having returned from the Games. However, it was a factor now that they had quickly become used to. 

They had begun meeting a week after returning. When Kara had had her first panic attack, and Mon El had wanted to forget a particularly cruel nightmare. Unknowingly, their feet had brought them to the forest. Unknowingly, they had met.

“You know, Mon El,” Kara spoke up first, “We’ve been through hell, in the arena.” Her eyes soft, her voice soothing, she continued. “The Games- they were a horrible experience, for both of us. Something, we just wanna forget. Wipe away from memory entirely.” She paused a little, before continuing, “But the one good thing that came from it, for me, was that I found someone who understood exactly what I went through.” Looking at him directly in the eyes, not a hint of the tell-tale crinkle on her forehead, she continued. “Someone who knows what it’s like, as an alien, to survive on this planet. Someone that I can be completely honest about everything with and someone who, I hope, is completely honest with me as well.”

Her words made sense. Mon El could relate to them, for he was immensely grateful to have found Kara. The circumstances under which they met were terrible, there was no doubt. But they had met. It was a gift they had received in the worst of times. A gift that they could never be grateful enough for.

“We can’t lie to each other,” she continued. “That goes against the rules we set up on day 1. No matter how bad things get, we’ll be there. That’s what we had agreed upon, Daxamite. And I can’t be there for you if you won’t let me.”

‘Kryptonian-1. Daxamite-0.’

Mon El let out a sigh of defeat, as he closed his eyes and finally gave in. He had to come clean now. Although he didn’t want to burden her, he knew keeping things from her would only worsen matters. She was strong. She could understand him like no one else. He could open up to her. ‘Besides,’ he thought, ‘he didn’t exactly have a choice now,’ for once the woman in front of him made up her mind, there was no going against it!

Reluctantly, he began. “I had a nightmare.”

“Var Eth?” she enquired.

He nodded. “The same one,” he continued. “And when I woke up, Maya was there. I had woken her up,” he said, dejectedly.

Kara remained quiet for a moment, as she considered his words. “It’s not how it happened, Mon El,” she said in a calming voice. She understood how telling him that it wasn’t his fault that Maya was awake would make him feel. It wasn’t the truth, and lying about it was pointless. But the one thing that truly wasn’t his fault, was what he did in his dream. It wasn’t the truth; far from it. “You did not kill him. The dream wasn’t real.”

Rubbing his forehead, for the headache was coming back now, he replied, “You know, for something that didn’t actually happen, the dream was quite detailed.” Facing her, he continued, “Everything was pretty accurate. Just like I remember… Even the guilt.” He paused, before continuing. “I may not have shot him with an arrow, but I killed him. That part’s always gonna be real.”

Instantly, Kara was by his side. She grabbed his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “You did not kill him,” she said with stark clarity. “Var Eth saved your life. And I know that we’ll always feel guilty about not saving the people that sacrificed everything for our survival, but you can’t blame yourself for what happened. It wasn’t your fault, Mon El. It was no one’s fault. You taught me that.”

Her words worked wonders. They managed to ease his guilt somewhat. But before he could say anything, Kara spoke again.

“There’s something else,” she said, studying his face. “Something else is bothering you. And don’t say there isn’t.”

Unwillingly, Mon El gave in. He hesitated more than before, as he thought about what he wanted to tell her. “I think I saw my mother again. I think it was my final memory of her”

The subject was delicate. Long space travel had robbed both aliens of memories of their parents. But in the arena, when Mon El had gotten stung by venomous tracker-jackers, the venom had somehow jogged up his memory and brought to mind the face of his birth-mother. After that, flashes of memories had kept on hitting him abruptly. Sometimes in quiet moments throughout the day, but mostly in his sleep. He had always tried to avoid talking about them with Kara, but the Kryptonian simply knew him too well for him to be able to hide this from her.

“Seeing her,” he continued, “I thought I would feel good. That I would be grateful for these memories.” Kara silently nodded. “But uh- all I could- all I could feel was anger. And it’s so strange, because when I first landed here, I wished to be able to remember my parents. Everyday, I would try my best to remember, to get even a glimpse of their faces or remember the sound of their voices. But now- now that I do remember, all I wanna do is forget. Because the more I recall, the more I realize that I will never have that again. No matter how much I remember, I’m never gonna have her back. It’s like these memories are just a constant reminder of what I’ve lost.”

Kara remained silent for a while, as she considered everything that he had told her. “You’re allowed to miss her,” she spoke up in a calm, comforting voice. “She was your mother. It’s okay to feel bad. But deep down, you know you don’t ever wanna forget. These memories, Mon El, are not a curse. They’re not meant to torture you. They’re a way for you to honour your mother, your world. They’re not a reminder of what you’ve lost. They’re a reminder of who you are.”

Mon El considered her response. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps the memories could stand for not what he had lost, but rather what he had been. Remembering his birth-mother had been a shock for Mon El. He hadn’t been prepared for it in the least. But wanting to forget after the pain that recalling the many moments he had spent with her had caused, he had felt guilty for it. Somehow, Kara’s words eased the pain, the guilt.

She pulled him in for a hug. As they embraced, Mon El could feel his guilt slipping away. Kara brought her hand to the back of his head, caressing his hair, a gesture that managed to calm him down further.

When they separated, he asked, “How do you always know exactly what to say?”

“I told you,” she replied with a smile. “Personification of all that is good!”

It managed to bring a smile to his face. ‘She truly was.’

“Well, I think we should get going,” Kara replied after a moment, confusing Mon El. “It’s getting late, we need to get home before the train arrives.” With that she turned and took a few steps away from him, when Mon El grabbed her hand and pulled her back. Confused, she looked at him.

“Not so fast, lady,” he said mockingly. “I told my sob story, time to hear yours.” Kara tried to play it off, but before she could say anything, Mon El continued further, “Before you say, ‘it’s nothing, Mon El,’ I would like to remind you that you’re a terrible liar. So just get straight to it, please.” he smiled.

“But it is nothing,” Kara protested. “I am absolutely fine, Mon El. There’s nothing to worry about.” Seeing how he wasn’t convinced, at all, she continued after a deep sigh in surrender. “I was out here with Eve, showcasing my powers and- we were having fun and everything was fine, when- I- for a second, I thought I was back in the arena. But it was only for a second,” she said hurriedly. “It’s not- it’s nothing, okay? It’s not happening as frequently as it used to. Trust me, I’m fine.” It didn’t go unnoticed by Mon El, that she looked away when she said the final statement.

“C’mon, now we really don’t wanna be late. Your tour starts before mine. And from how you’ve described Thea, I’m not gonna be the reason you’re late!” she said with a playful smile. With that, she turned, looking away from him. The smile remained in place, almost as if to convince herself more than anyone else. Just as she thought she had successfully brought the conversation to a close, 

“It’s not gonna work.” Mon El called out from behind her, causing her to stop and turn.

Looking at her directly in the eyes, he continued, “I know what you’re trying to do, but it’s not gonna work. Bottling it up,” he began listing, “keeping things to yourself, telling yourself that you’re fine, forcing yourself to forget. You think that if you’re away from it all for long enough, that you can just forget it all. That by not talking about it, you’re ensuring that you won’t remember any of it. You’re convincing yourself that there’s nothing to worry about. That things are fine. And then one day, things will actually be fine, and you can just walk away. Isn’t that right?”

Kara remained silent, giving Mon El the answer to his question.

“I’ve tried that,” he continued. “Word of advice? Don’t do it. It doesn’t work that way. See, because you’re never gonna forget. The memories, the things we went through in the arena, they’re always gonna be there, no matter what you tell yourself. The pain’s never gonna stop. So, the best way to deal with it, is to let it out.”

The grim look on Kara’s face transformed into a sad smile. “You of all people know why I can’t let it out,” she said. 

“I of all people know why you should,” he responded.

They remained quiet, as she contemplated what he had said. It was true, for what he had said, was exactly what she was doing. She had herself convinced that the only way to make it stop, was to not acknowledge the pain in the first place. That way, she could remain invulnerable. That way she could remain hopeful. And she knew that she needed to remain hopeful now more than ever, for if she couldn’t for even a second, the memories would overwhelm her. It would put everyone that she cared about in danger. And she could never, would never let that happen (not again).

With that, she made up her mind. ‘No,’ she told herself. She would not break.

Looking directly in his eyes, making conscious efforts not to let her tell-tale appear, she said, “I’m fine, Mon El, I really am.” She managed as earnestly as she could to convince the alien in front of her. “I will be okay.”

If Mon El was still unconvinced, he didn’t let it show. He said nothing for a few seconds. When he finally spoke, he did so in a soft calming manner. “Be careful.”

The change in his response was surprising, but welcome. Kara hoped that even though she may not be convinced herself, she had at least managed to convince him not to worry. “Always am,” she replied confidently. 

He paused for a second, before responding with “Respectfully disagree!"

With that, they bid each other farewell, turned in the directions of their respective districts and began walking away. Both had come to the meadows in distress, but were now leaving with a sense of joy. Things weren’t okay yet, but meeting each other, just made them realize that they would be. ‘She needed time,’ he realized. ‘He needed hope,’ she realized.

As soon as they left, far away, but within viewing distance of the meadow, a man switched off his camera.

* * *

Effie’s voice could be heard long before the doorbell rang.

As soon as Kara opened the door to let her prep team in, Effie all but pounced on the poor victor from 12. “Oh darling, how I’ve missed you!” Effie exclaimed in her typical, Capitol voice. Once she regained her balance, Kara took proper note of how her presenter from the Capitol looked. 

Her hair had changed colour again, (she did that every month, as Kara recalled), while her face was plastered with makeup. It was one thing seeing her on the stage, or even in the Capitol. But to see her here, in the District, in her house, was an experience as incredulous as ever. She looked like she very clearly didn’t belong here, in a District where most people were starving, and almost none of whom had come across both the idea as well as the usability of makeup. ‘Who,’ Kara thought, ‘was the alien here?!’

After almost tackling Kara to the ground in her overt excitement to meet her victor after so long, Effie proceeded to greet Kara’s parents in a similar manner. Behind her, was Kara’s prep team. While they too were excited to meet their victor, their reason for excitement was something else, entirely.

“Oh my gosh, you look beautiful as ever!” Flavius, the man in-charge for Kara’s hair, exclaimed. “But you must stop putting your hair up in a messy bun like that. Do you have any idea how bad hairfall can be for all our reputations?!” he berated her after having greeted her not seconds ago. 

“Say what you want about her hair, her skin is flawless,” Octavia, one of the girls of her prep team told Flavius. It took another few seconds and statements about Kara’s appearance to cause both members of the prep team to begin arguing. A minute later, the third member chimed in with suggestions of her own. With great difficulty, Kara managed to usher them inside the house, to give the people waiting behind them a chance to reach the door.

Next in line was Henry, her mentor. Henry was Kara’s neighbour ever since she had moved into the victor’s village house with her parents. She met her mentor almost on a daily basis. In the one month that she had been home, Henry had played the vital role of helping her acclimate to the no longer familiar air of her own District. He had helped her deal with the many problems that she had allowed him to help her with and had offered to help her with others as well. She had politely refused, telling him, like she had been telling everyone else, that she was okay. She appreciated having her mentor around. Kara greeted him with a smile, which he reciprocated wordlessly and stepped inside the house, sidestepping the quarrelling trio. 

The final member of her team stood outside on the doorstep. When Kara greeted Lena with a smile, the designer didn’t notice. Her face was grim, while she seemed lost in thought about something. It concerned Kara. Of all the people, that she had been introduced to, during her time in the Capitol, Lena was the one person who hadn’t seemed happy about sending innocent people in the arena. She was the sane one. It was this stark lack of enthusiasm for the Games that had made Kara like her designer. It was why she had considered Lena a friend.

“You okay?” Kara asked, snapping Lena back to reality. The designer looked at Kara and smiled, curtly. Whether that was because something was wrong, or because she always remained stoic, Kara couldn’t guess.

“I’m fine.” Lena responded mechanically and stepped inside. With her, Kara’s entire prep team stood in the narrow entrance hallway. Alura, who had been listening to Effie going on and on about what an honour it was to have Kara as a victor, ushered the team to the spacious living room of the house. Once settled, she excused herself and returned from the kitchen with coffee and snacks. 

Coffee mugs were passed around while the house was suddenly filled with endless chatter. Members of the prep team were in the peak of their arguments while Effie was admiring Alura’s cooking. Alura took Kara to the side. Gesturing to the scene in the living room, she asked, “What are these people?!” Kara simply shrugged in response.

A few minutes later, Effie checked her watch and abruptly walked to the centre of the room. “Now, can I have everyone’s attention please.” The plea was heard by most except for the members of the prep team who were busy debating between the colour of Kara’s fur boots. “Flavius, stop it!” Effie commanded, causing everyone in the room to suddenly fall silent. Everyone stared at the presenter from the Capitol, whose demeanour had changed entirely. She was no longer just a smiling figure from the Capitol. She was in-charge now. 

The next fifteen minutes were spent in Effie directing the prep team, the designer, the mentor as well as Kara on their respective tasks. This was Effie’s first victory tour. She would ensure that everything went perfectly, even if it was the last thing she ever did. Kara remained frozen in her spot and listened to the numerous instructions that Effie had for her. Gone was the Capitol presenter who was praising Kara not seconds ago, for Effie was now barking instructions at her victor.

The presenter’s “Is that clear?” was met with nods of approval but in total silence. In the next second, everyone got to work. Flavius and Octavia grabbed Kara by her arms and dragged her to the prep room. Kara, still stunned by how quickly their team of disjoint members had turned into an efficient, well-oiled machine, just went with the flow. Besides her, her parents had a similar look of shock on their faces.

About twenty minutes later, Kara was ready. Ready for ‘a normal day.’ That was the look they were going for. The victory tour started with some footage from the victor’s district. It was the interview right outside her house, moments before she left for the tour. Unfortunately, the Capitol couldn’t quite understand the ‘normal’ of the districts. What was normal for District 12, was appalling for the people of the Capitol. They lived in the fantasy that their favourite victors always looked extravagant, even at home. Poverty was not a concept that the people of the Capitol understood.

Hence, the preparation. This was why Kara needed her entire prep team to look as ‘normal’ as possible. The concept was quite amusing to her.

As Octavia straightened out Kara’s ice pink overcoat, Effie suddenly, loudly shushed everyone, bringing their attention to the holo in the living room.

“It’s starting,” she said, as the familiar face of Caesar Flickerman came up on the screen. As soon as he began talking, she announced, “Okay, we have about thirty minutes from now. Make sure everything’s done.”

As per usual, Kara’s victory tour would have started by now. But considering how the Hunger Games currently had not one, but two victors, the time table had changed a little. Now, each victor’s victory tour would begin with a time difference of fifteen minutes from one another. Mon El’s began first. 

Kara’s eyes were now glued to the screen.

* * *

“Final touch-up”

Mon El remained still, as Thea powdered his nose for the final time. Once done, she stepped back and observed Mon El’s look, inspecting it for one last time. 

“Thea, he has to go out immediate-,” Don, the presenter of District 2 began to exclaim, but stopped midway, as he was met with Thea’s response.

“Perfection takes time, Donovan!” she exclaimed, almost barked at him. Only when she was finally satisfied with her work, she gave her nod of approval, causing Don to hurriedly grab Mon El by his arms and all but push him towards the door. “Smile and wave, you’re on camera,” he said quickly, and stepped back.

Mon El, regaining his balance, put one hand on the door handle. He closed his eyes and sighed, preparing himself for what was to follow. Readying himself for the fake smiles and stories. He remembered everything that had happened since he had woken up. The nightmare, the run, Kara and now this. Before now, throughout it all, he was blissfully alone. Away from unwanted company. But now, things were to change. Beyond the door, a camera waited for him to make an appearance. All of Panem would be watching now. With a final deep breath, he pushed the handle and opened the door, reminding himself,

‘He wasn’t alone anymore.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I honestly had so much fun writing Karamel in this chapter. Like their arguments and mockery is just so FUN! I mean, sure they argued in the arena as well, but out here, they're away from the Capitol. So they can argue openly!  
> 2\. In both teams, there's that one leader who will murder you with her eyes if anything goes wrong. In 12, it's Effie!  
> 3\. The victory tour in the books is placed six months after the Games. I've changed that to 1 month here... Just thought you would like to know  
> 4\. For all those who haven't read the books or watched the movies, if there are any doubts about any factors of the storyline, please let me know in the comments!  
> 5\. Quick question: Should I change Kara's Earth-father's name? It's William right now, so....!
> 
> Thank You for Reading!  
> Until Next Time!
> 
> P.S.: Oh yeah! The man with the camera.... Yeah....!


	4. Day One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hell. That’s exactly what the arena was. And that’s exactly what the tour is going to be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh mah gawsh the WORD COUNT!!!

_ ‘Estimated time of arrival in District 12: Five hours twenty minutes.’ _

The announcement overhead, though barely heard, managed to get Mon El to open his eyes and watch the scenery go by. The victor of the 74th Annual Hunger Games was currently sitting in the equipment car of the train, resting his eyes, but not sleeping. He was exhausted.

“We leave in ten minutes!” Thea had bellowed as soon as the cameras placed outside Mon El’s house had stopped recording. The broadcast had been a short one. Merely fifteen minutes of smiling and laughing and waving to an invisible audience that Mon El could only hear in the background of Caesar’s booming voice. As soon as it was over, the smile had disappeared, while Mon El had incredulously taken note of the pain in his jaw owing to maintaining the broad, saccharine smile. Only fifteen minutes in, and he was already wishing for it all to be over.

For his team, however, it was a different story altogether.

From the moment his prep team had entered his house, the atmosphere had changed entirely. A house that was much too large for a family of three members, had suddenly been crowded with people, some excited, some calm, but everyone focussed on the task at hand, rushing past rooms to get things done. Readying Mon El’s look had been a matter of minutes, thanks to 2’s incredibly efficient prep team, while his costume had been taken care of by Thea’s design team. A stark difference had been visible between both teams, but only in terms of behaviour, the former being calm and collected, having witnessed numerous such victory tours before, while the latter being excited, nervous and enthusiastic, all rolled into one. In terms of work, however, both teams had an equal footing. Both complemented each other, completed one another’s work. The amateur team had respect for the accomplished, while the experienced crew appreciated the deserving novice.

And both of them had a collective fear of Thea Queen.

“Get everything done immediately, we are not waiting for anyone,” Thea had called out, as soon as the broadcast had ended. Walking near Mon El, who was standing in the living room, his eyes set on the living room holo, she had said to 2’s victor, “Including you,” in a tone that in no way indicated even the slightest humour. Within the five minutes following that, they were all set to leave for the train station. The remaining time had been utilized by Mon El to bid farewell to his family. The goodbye had not been a teary one this time. It was mostly smiles and assurances. Mon El had not failed to realize how this was the first time that he was leaving his family without either of them having to worry about one another. Because he wasn’t leaving for long this time. He wasn’t leaving in fear. He was a victor now. He was leaving, knowing full and well that he would return. It was a peaceful farewell. One that he would remember for the next twelve days. (perhaps even a lot longer afterwards, but he wouldn’t realize it now.)

After that, everything had gone by in a blur. The trip to the train station was a short one, a quiet one, considering how the only person that Mon El had for company along the way, was the infamous, brusque mentor of District 2, who preferred silence over mindless chatter. The short distance from the entrance to the train station, to the entrance of the train itself had taken the most time. Mon El had incredulously realized that the short walk across the station had actually taken more time than the drive from Victor’s Village to the station. The place was crowded beyond belief. “Fans” from 2, proud to see their latest victor off. The cheers had been louder than before, however. After all, the 74th Annual Hunger Games had proven to be the most popular one in years. And Mon El had been a major factor.

Once the train had finally left the modest station of District 2, the prep team had all but celebrated the small victory, that was, getting Mon El from his house and onto the train. Breakfast had been served in its usual, extravagant style. The time had been utilized to list out the events that the victor’s itinerary consisted of. The schedule was packed. The only free time Mon El was expected to have was during the train ride to each District, excluding video and recorded interviews among other things. The entire day had gone by in a flash. It was only after dinner, when Mon El had finally been excused.

That had been about three hours ago.

Now, Mon El was nursing a coffee mug in his hand and watching the scenery outside go by in the dark. It was the one Earth-beverage that he had grown quite fond of. However, given the amount of sugar that he took with it, Maya had told him that the drink was more sugar syrup than coffee. 

The equipment car was mainly characterized by the clutter of numerous pieces of machinery that were, in some way or another, necessary for the smooth functioning of the train. Situated near the very front of the train, the car was the closest to the engine. The walls were lined with complex circuitry with the exception of the large window that was perhaps the only resemblance that this car had with the other rooms. The centre of the room consisted of a modest sofa planted before a glass table. The two pieces of furniture were all the extravagance that the room was allowed. It was why the equipment car stood apart. Stepping into it felt like stepping into a different world altogether.

The victory tour train was among the most luxurious ones to ever visit District stations. Fancier than the trains that were used to collect tributes after the Reaping, this train was a palace on wheels. The dining car, along with all other common area cars were extravagant in every sense, full with plush furniture and other opulent commodities. Cars were converted into rooms for the victor and the entire team so that each person had an entire car to themselves.

The victory tour was a ceremony that symbolized the riches that a victor was showered with, thanks to the ‘generosity of the Capitol,’ or so the entire nation was told. In reality, it was merely an incentive. Parading victors around in luxurious trains was the Capitol’s way of letting all of Panem know the honour that could be achieved if one were to participate in the Games, and win. It was a way to keep the Games alive, all throughout the year. ‘And this was only the first month,’ Mon El thought to himself. There was much more to do. Worse games to play.

The sound of the car door sliding open brought him out of his reverie. He did not turn to face the newcomer, for the arrival, though not expected, was not surprising either. Mon El knew that he had been quieter than usual the entire day, keeping to himself, for reasons he simply did not wish to reveal. He knew the behaviour wouldn’t go unnoticed. Especially by the member of his team that worried about every single aspect of the tour.

“Before you say anything, I’m absolutely fine,” Mon El said, without turning, in a rehearsed manner. “I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to come out for a walk. But don’t worry I am resting. This place is nice, peaceful.”

He was met with nothing but silence, causing him to knit his brows. Thea Queen was known as many things. The quiet type was not one of them. He finally turned, coming face-to-face with pretty much the last person he expected to meet for midnight chitchat.

“You’re in the most luxurious train on the face of the Earth,” Harrison Wells began, “and you’re calling the equipment car a ‘nice place.’ Now, call it intuition if you will, but that leads me to believe something’s going on.”

Mon El responded with a smile. “I thought you were Thea,” he said, shifting to the other side on the sofa, making space for his mentor to join him. “And this place really isn’t that bad, you know? For one, the view’s pretty elegant.”

It was Wells’s turn to smile. “Oh yes,” he said, settling down next to his mentee. “You can’t find this view anywhere else in the train,” he said in a sarcastic tone. “And as far as peaceful places go, then this, my friend, is perhaps the worst place you could have chosen to fall asleep.”

Owing to the car’s proximity to the engine, the equipment car was burdened with constant noise emanating from the turbine. It was yet another reason why the car seemed so different from the rest of the train. However, it was one of the main reasons why Mon El had come here in the first place.

“It’s a good place not to,” Mon El responded with a sad smile, his eyes fixed on the scenery that was rapidly passing by. It was why Mon El was here. There was a reason why he had planned on staying here until morning, when he would quietly sneak back into his lavish bedroom. When he had first entered his room on the train, the intense, loud silence had nearly overwhelmed him. He had been unable to bear the quiet, so he had snuck out for a walk, and had kept walking until he had stumbled upon the equipment car. The noise here was somehow relaxing. It assured him that he wouldn’t fall asleep. It was a comforting notion.

“So,” Wells spoke, “you’re avoiding sleep.” When Mon El didn’t respond, he continued. “You know, as a mentor, I think it’s dealing with things like these that are a part of my job description. My mentorship wasn’t over when you won.”

Mon El considered his words before he responded. “Let’s just say, sleep isn’t the first thing that’s on my mind right now.”

“Then what is?”

Wells’s question was followed by a silent few seconds, as Mon El debated with himself about opening up. Did he honestly feel that telling his mentor would be a good idea? Would it do anything to solve the problem? He was unsure. But ultimately, he decided to go with it.

“Tomorrow, we reach 12,” he began. “A place that’s home to two tributes, both of whom at some point in the arena saved my life. One of them died for me, and the other one fought for me.” He paused before continuing. “And I have to pretend to hate both of them.” Turning to face Wells, he said, “I don’t know how.”

Wells hummed in acknowledgement. He considered his words before responding. “I know it may sound a little cliched,” he began, “but I’d like to tell you something that my mentor told me on the first day of my victory tour. He said, ‘I’m not qualified to be your mentor. Because I’ve never gone through the things that you did.’” The look of surprise in Mon El’s eyes, though gone in a flash, did not go unnoticed by Wells. He continued, “‘But one thing, I know for sure, is that we’re both survivors. The very fact that we’ve made it out alive till now just goes to prove that we’re capable of living through hell. Because that’s exactly what the arena was. And that’s exactly what the tour is going to be.’” Pausing to let his own mentor’s words sink in, Wells continued with his own words now, “So, Mon El, if you’re worried about what to say, then you don’t have to, you’ll be provided with cards to read out. But as for how you say it, I think you can rely on your instincts for that. They’ve gotten you this far, haven’t they?”

The talk made sense to Mon El. He understood what Wells meant when he referred to never having gone through what he had (although at first, he had misunderstood; after all, an alien could never be too cautious). Wells had never been part of the anomalous 74th Annual Hunger Games. He had never been one of two victors. He had never been pulled out of the arena by the head-gamemaker for reasons unknown. And yet, given the circumstances, Wells was perhaps the only one on the train who knew exactly what Mon El was going through. He understood the uneasiness, the worry that came as an added bonus of the victory tour. He was expected to address the people of the Districts. To give condolences to the families of fallen tributes; those, whose life would have meant his own death. How could one go through with something as vile, as cruel as this? How was one to prepare for it? Perhaps one could not. Maybe all that he could really do, was all that he had been doing ever since the Games had begun.

Survive.

“Thank you,” Mon El finally replied after a long moment of silence.

To this, Wells smiled gently. Patting his mentee on his shoulders, he got up and began to leave. “Get some rest,” he said as he reached the sliding door of the compartment. “I don’t think Thea or Dan will appreciate dark circles below your eyes, in the morning.”

Mon El smirked. A moment later, he leaned back on the sofa and propped up his legs, extending them across it. He wasn’t planning on sleeping any time soon, but perhaps with his mind slightly at peace now, he could make it through the night peacefully.

Overhead, another announcement was made.

* * *

_ ‘Estimated time of arrival in District 11: Twenty minutes.’ _

The overhead announcement was a welcome change of pace from Effie’s never-ending set of instructions. The Capitol-presenter had been on a roll ever since Kara had been summoned (frantically, by Octavia) to breakfast. ‘In fact,’ Kara reminded herself, watching how Effie had taken to pacing now, talking about the importance of time management, ‘the woman had been speaking constantly from the moment she had woken up!’

The victor from 12 had been awake from the moment the train had left the District 12 station at around midnight and had not slept ever since. In the beginning, Effie had been going on and on about the various amenities of the luxurious train and how thanks to ‘the generosity of the Capitol,’ no expenses were spared to ensure the comfort of her darling victor. After that, a wide awake Effie had tried but failed to make everyone stay in the dining car in order to discuss the details of the morning schedule, only to be dragged by both Flavius and Octavia and be forced in her room for some sleep. There had been about three to four hours of silence after that; a time that the alien from 12 (and nearly everyone else, had cherished immensely. However, it had been brought to an abrupt end when Kara’s super hearing had picked up a shrill sound coming from Effie’s room, which turned out to be the woman’s alarm clock. That had been about fifteen minutes ago.

‘Also, Effie talked in her sleep,’ Kara reminded herself as the presenter had now changed the topic to ‘a presenter’s honour and duties.’ So there was that too.

“Effie, stop!” Everyone turned to find Henry finally breaking the presenter’s train of thought and looking at the woman incredulously. “You’ve been going non-stop for hours. Just relax!”

“She’s right,” Kara spoke up. “You’ve personally looked over each and every detail of the tour. Believe me, or better yet, believe yourself. You got this.” Once sure that the presenter wasn’t about to rebut, for she looked like a deer, an offended deer, caught in headlights, but quickly calmed down, Kara grabbed her hand and continued,”You haven’t eaten all day. Just, sit down and eat with us. Rest assured, everything’s gonna be-”

“Fabulous!” The prep team chimed in in unison. It was their insistence that finally got the woman to settle down at the breakfast table. She gave Kara an earnest smile and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Well,” she said. “I suppose I have taken care of everything. Pass me the marmalade please.”

Kara smiled thoughtfully. She realized how things had changed. Before, not unlike every other citizen of District 12, Kara had despised the very presence of Effie and everything that she stood for. How could she celebrate a concept as gruesome as the Games? How could anyone? But over the past month, given all her experiences both in the arena as well as before it, Kara had realized that things weren’t exactly the way they seemed. People like Effie, people of the Capitol were raised this way. This was all that they were taught about. They didn’t have the concept of loss of life in the arena. To them, it was just a television show. One that they never really opted for, but one that they were shoved into liking and supporting. Effie too was born into a system as convoluted as this one. It wasn’t her fault. She was just the spokesperson for the blame. A spokesperson of the Capitol.

All in all, Kara actually appreciated the woman. In fact, she appreciated each member of her team. She knew the Games were just wrong on levels more than one, but she also knew that the people that were currently in the train had done everything in their power to help the girl from 12 get through everything. She couldn’t blame them for being born in the Capitol. Who knew what things would have been like if she had landed in the Capitol instead of 12.

The prospect caused a shiver to run down her spine, as she quickly pulled herself away from the thought.

“Well, I’m gonna go get your costumes ready,” Lena spoke up, startling nearly everyone, for the designer had remained so quiet throughout, that they had almost forgotten that she had been there. Kara nodded at her and gave her a short smile. Lena, in turn responded with a curt nod and quickly turned away towards the car’s exit.

It was strange, Kara thought. Lena, though they hadn’t exactly been friends, was still a good acquaintance of hers. She had been the first person from the Capitol who had not been overly excited or enthusiastic about the Games. In a way, she had helped Kara hold on to her sanity during the time that she spent in the Capitol, before entering the terrifying arena. She had recognized her designer to be the curt, laconic type. But from the moment she had greeted her at the door back in 12, Lena had been distant. She seemed lost, sad about something.

“Hey Effie,” Kara enquired in concern after the designer had left the compartment. “What’s going on with Lena?”

Effie responded with a look of recognition, as though she quickly understood what Kara was referring to. “Oh, so you’ve noticed her moping around,” she began. “Well, she’s been like this for the entire month really.” Kara knitted her brows in confusion, to which Effie replied, “I’m sure you’ve heard about… Seneca Crane?”

Kara nodded in response. The head-gamemaker of the 74th Annual Hunger Games, the man who had pulled her and Mon El out of the arena for reasons unknown, had been found dead a short while after the victors had been declared.

“Well, as it turns out, Seneca was a family friend of Lena’s. Her brother’s best friend, I think. Poor thing’s been devastated ever since the funeral.”

“Family friend?” Kara asked in confusion. “How was Lena allowed to work for the Games if the head-gamemaker was a family friend?”

“Well that’s just it,” Effie replied matter-of-factly. “No one can prove anything. As far as anyone’s concerned, Lena never talked about it and neither did Seneca. No one even knows anything about Lena’s family. I mean, do you know her last name?”

Kara shook her head no. “She never told, I never asked.”

“Well it’s acceptable for you, you’ve only known her for a month,” Effie replied. “Me? I’ve been working with her for four years now and I still don’t know it.”

“Because of that, she hasn’t been able openly mourn his death, either.” Flavius joined in on the conversation. 

“The entire Capitol mourned Seneca Crane,” Effie spoke, getting almost teary-eyed by the memory. “Oh, the ceremony was touching, truly. It was the loss of an artist” The prep team sitting at the table agreed. “Well, at least they’ve found a replacement rather quickly.”

“He’s got some pretty big shoes to fill,” Octavia added. “I mean first year as head-gamemaker and it’s the quarter quell-”

The prep team continued talking, but the words drowned away now, for Kara had suddenly noticed something else.

Looking out the large windows of the dining car, she stared wide-eyed at the scene. Suddenly, the air around her became colder than it was mere seconds ago. Suddenly, she was forced into a state of complete stillness. Before she could help it, memories flashed in her mind. The word, the name that she had forbidden to think about, was suddenly the only thing in her mind. Tears began forming in her eyes. But she held them in. She stood up and stared at the District station that was approaching them now.

Overhead, an announcement told them that they had reached District 11.

* * *

The two victors of the 74th Annual Hunger Games, though belonging to different Districts, though visiting different Districts, had quite a few similarities.

Both victors sat patiently on stage as the mayors of District 11 (for Kara) and 12 (for Mon El) made their introductory remarks. Both held their heads down and avoided the gazes of the many people of the Districts that had gathered for the mandatory victor’s eulogy. 

When they were introduced, both of them had greeted the people with a rehearsed smile and walked towards the centre of the stage where a mic had been waiting for them to recite their rehearsed speeches. Both of them held cards that held their written-for-them eulogies.

When they finally raised their head and smiled for the cameras, like they had been told, their smiles had instantly dropped, for both had looked directly into the teary eyes of the families of the fallen tributes. After that, there had been a stretched moment of silence, where they had both simply stood on the stage, unable to speak. When they had become aware of the quiet, owing to the distinct lack of words coming from them, both had quickly glanced down at their cards.

Finally, when they had each begun speaking, they had both put their cards away.

* * *

“I uh-” Mon El hesitantly began. One look at James’s family had suddenly caused his throat to close up. He momentarily forgot how to breathe, as the guilt from that moment in the arena came rushing to his mind. The tremble in his right hand was back, threatening to overwhelm him.

One look at James’s family, and he had instantly put the cards away. His family did not deserve insincere words. They didn’t deserve false assurances. They had been through enough already. They deserved the truth. They had earned the right to find out what Mon El truly felt. They deserved to know what the victor that was standing on the stage in front of them, honestly felt about the man that had died because of him. A son. A brother.

Could he tell them? Could words even begin to describe the sheer intensity of guilt that Mon El had felt every second since he had returned from the arena? What was he to say to the mother who had lost a son, or to the sister who had lost a brother. What could he say to make things better for them. Mon El couldn’t come up with anything. So he did what he could do in that moment. He took in a deep breath and spoke honestly.

“My father was the bravest man I knew,” he said, looking directly at the mother and daughter that stood on a platform in front of him, in tears. In that moment, nothing else mattered. He needed to let them know what he truly felt. “He used to work in electrics. It may not have been the most dangerous job in the world, but as a kid it was still pretty scary. I would wait for him everyday in fear, hoping that he wouldn’t be shocked or-or electrocuted at work.” He hesitated a little before continuing. “When an electrical explosion broke out in his section, I was there. When a blast of high voltage was gonna hit, I was there. But right at the last second, my father pushed me away and sacrificed himself.”

He paused again. “When Jeff was about to put a spear through my chest, James intervened. My death in the arena would have meant a shot at survival for James. He knew that. Even then, he sacrificed his life for me. He fought when I was too weak to defend myself. He was afraid, everyone is, in the arena. But he did it anyway. He died because of me…” Taking a deep breath to stop the trembling, he continued, looking now directly in the mother’s eyes “He saved my life. And it’s a debt I’ll never be able to repay. James was a hero. A guardian. He was among the bravest men I knew.”

His speech was met with stark silence. It had stilled the audience. The only sound that could be heard, was of the tears of James’s mother and his sister. Mon El continued to look into the mother’s eyes. He was trying to convey how guilty he felt for hurting her family. How sorry he was for taking her son away from her.

Just then, a woman from the audience raised her arm in salute. She raised the middle three fingers of her right hand: it was a sign of respect. A gesture of honour. 

Besides her, a man mimicked her actions and raised his own arm in salute. Gradually, the people around them slowly began raising three fingers of their right hands. Everyone in the crowd now had their right hand in the air. Mon El stared at the impactful visual before him. It was a display of appreciation. His words had felt genuine to the people of District 12. They had managed to gain their respect. There was no cheer. No applause. The salute was District 12’s way of letting him know that they understood the pain. That they appreciated what he had said for their fallen tribute. When finally, James’s family too participated in the salute, Mon El bit back his tears. He stood there, stunned by the moving scene in front of him.A voice in the back of his head told him that this was not right. But he ignored it, for in that moment, there was nothing else he could think of, other than the fact, that he had managed to convey what he really felt to the family of the fallen.

A few seconds later, he felt a tap on his shoulder. It was 12’s mayor. He was asking Mon El to return to the back of the stage, inside the building. All around the stage, the speakers had begun blaring the Horn of Plenty. Mon El wanted the moment to extend for a little longer, but was instead being ushered back into the building hurriedly. Only when he was finally inside the building, and noticed the sheer anger in the usually stoic Harrison Wells’s eyes, did he realize that something was wrong.

* * *

“I just- I just wanted to say that uh-” Kara tried to find the right words to say, but failed miserably. All she could focus on was the large picture of Rue that had been displayed on one of the platforms in front of the stage. Rue somehow looked younger in the picture. Her eyes weren’t lifeless like she had seen them during the girl’s final moment in the arena. They were hopeful, happy. One look at them, and Kara had put the cards away. One look, and she had begun speaking.

“I didn’t know Thresh very well,” she said, turning to the platform where the male tribute from 11’s family was standing. “I only saw him once, when he hesitated to kill someone from his own District. It told me that he was a decent man.”

That was all she had to say about him. Turning her head to face the female tribute’s family, she continued. “I did know Rue, she said, biting back her tears at the mention of the name. “She wasn’t just my ally, she was my friend. She was kind and generous. She had big brown eyes and a contagious smile. She taught me that no matter how bad things got, there was always light to be found in the dark. She was the light...” Taking a deep breath to rid her voice of the trembling, she continued. “Rue was too young. Too gentle. And I couldn’t save her.” Looking directly into Rue’s mother’s eyes, she said, “I’m sorry.”

Her speech was met with nothing but a heavy silence. Kara looked up at Rue’s picture again. She tried her best, but still failed the tears from forming in her eyes. In that moment, there was nothing but guilt. It would overwhelm her, when,

“For Rue!” a man in the audience shouted, causing everyone, including Kara to turn in the direction of the voice. Before anyone knew it, he ran head-first into a peacekeeper and tackled him to the ground. Seconds later, he was joined by more people. Everything happened too fast. Before anyone could comprehend, chaos ensued. People began shouting, struggling. It was the beginning of another riot. Just like it had happened last time, except,

The loud sound of a gunshot echoed in the air.

All of a sudden, as though someone had flipped a switch, the chaos began to die down a little, while fear took over. Peacekeepers, much more ruthless in nature, began taking charge, as they gathered the crowd and began threatening everyone to go home. There were screams of panic. Fear filled the atmosphere. Alarm filled the minds of those on stage. Before long, the mayor, Henry, Effie, all were being forcefully ushered back inside the town-hall building.

Kara was frozen in her spot on the stage. It took the combined effort of five peacekeepers to get her to move and return back inside the building. Almost at the door, she turned to look at the direction from where the gunshot had sounded.

The man who had started all this, not seconds ago, lying on the ground with a bullet-hole in his forehead was the last thing she saw before the doors of the town hall building closed shut.

* * *

“Are you out of your mind?!” Harrison Wells snapped at Mon El. He had waited until the two of them were safe, away from prying eyes and ears. “What the hell were you thinking?!”

Mon El responded in a defensive tone. “What are you talking about?! You told me to go with my instincts, and that is exactly what I di-”

“You acted emotionally,” Wells cut him off. “I told you to think like a survivor. Do you have any idea what you just did?!”

“What the hell is wrong, right now?!” Mon El asked exasperatedly. “All I did was tell them how I honestly felt. I told a mother that her son was a hero. What is wrong with that?!”

“Think about it,” Wells snarled. “You’re still thinking like an emotional fool. Think like a survivor, Mon El.”

Suddenly, Mon El understood. Think like a survivor. He suddenly understood what his mentor meant. He wanted Mon El to think like the tribute that he was. He wanted him to think like a Career.

“Do you remember what I told you when you got out of the arena?” Wells asked. “When you woke up? I told you that you had to be careful, for your sake, and everyone else’s, about what you told people. Because of your alliance, you needed to show people that you absolutely do not support unity between the Districts. Now tell me, if you go and call the fallen tribute of a different District a hero, what do you think will happen?”

It was as though cold water had been splashed on his face. All of a sudden, he understood. He realized the exact repercussions of his actions. At the end of the day, someone from 2, had called a tribute from 12 brave and courageous. He had caused people from another District to support him, honour him. In doing so, he had risked multiple lives. He had risked the lives of 12, of his own District.

He couldn’t put countless innocent lives in danger.

“I’m sorry,” he said, instantly. The tears were gone now. They were replaced with an unparalleled determination. Turning to Wells, he continued, “I’m sorry, I- I wasn’t thinking.” Looking directly in his mentor’s eyes, he said earnestly, and Wells saw, for the first time since he had known him, a decipherable look in Mon El’s eyes. It was desperation, “Help me. Help me get through this trip. Help me get through-”

“This trip?” Wells asked incredulously. Grabbing him by his shoulders, he said, “Mon El, wake up! This trip doesn’t end when you reach back home. Your job now, for the rest of your life, is to prove that you’re not against the Capitol. It is to be a distraction, so people forget the real problems. You’re a mentor now. That means that every year, they’ll be focussing on you. Every year, your personal life becomes theirs. The minute you start slipping, they’ll harm someone you care about. You Never get off this train.”

The words sank in. He understood exactly what he had gotten himself into, when he had made the mistake of winning the 74th Annual Hunger Games.

He was a prisoner now. He was never getting off this train.

He couldn’t believe what he had done.

* * *

She couldn’t believe what she had done.

She had known, from the moment they had reached 11, that things in the District were tense. Henry had told her about the riots in 11. The riots that she had caused when she had given Rue a teary funeral in the arena. What they hadn’t known, however, was that to get the District to quiet down, to settle, the guard had been called upon. Cruel, more ruthless, the peacekeepers of the Guard were enforcers. It was their job to keep everyone in line and they did it efficiently, for the moment someone stepped out of line, that someone was shot. That was the way the Guard operated. No trial. Only rules.

Kara had, through her speech, caused innocent people of 11 to provoke the peacekeepers. She had caused a riot to break out. She had risked the lives of countless people with her words. What would happen to them now? Would the peacekeepers unleash their wrath upon innocent people? Who would protect them if they did? These were questions that stood out in Kara’s mind. Because of a single moment of weakness, she had let slip her true emotions. She had made a terrible mistake. Countless lives would suffer because of it.

Suddenly, the faces of Rue’s family flashed in her mind. She could see the teary faces of her mother and her two younger sisters. They were all in tears. In pain. What would happen to them? Who would protect them? 

What if something were to happen to them because of Kara?

No. 

Suddenly, a voice in her mind screamed at her. It intensely negated the idea wholeheartedly. She couldn’t, wouldn’t let anything happen to the girl’s family. She had to make sure they were okay. She needed to be sure that they were safe.

With that, Kara suddenly got up and walked rapidly towards the door of the waiting-room that they had confined her in.

A few minutes later, she was walking fast towards the main gate of the town hall building. She had to sneak out without anyone noticing. She was almost at the door when,

“Kara!” Henry called out. 

Kara froze. She was almost out. She slowly turned and faced him. In a moment, something in Henry’s eyes changed. It resembles sympathy. A tense moment passed, before Henry finally said, “Just don’t take too long.” Kara nodded, grateful for Henry’s understanding, before she quickly slipped out the door without anyone else noticing.

* * *

Sharon Stenburg was a fierce lady.

She had always been a fighter. When she was young, her mother would often tell her to value cautiousness over righteousness. But young Sharon wouldn’t listen. She was always inspired by her grandmother, a woman who had fought in the great rebellion years ago. It was her fierce nature, her determination to never stay down and always get back up was what got her through the death of her husband. It was what helped her raise three daughters all on her own.

Things changed, however, with the death of her first born, Rue.

Rue was the light of Sharon’s life. She had always seen herself in her daughter. She had taught her many things. She had seen her look after her sisters with the same determination as her mother. The resilience that she had always admired. Rue was her world. She was her everything.

The reaping of the 74th Annual Hunger Games had torn her world apart.

Sharon had learned her lesson now. Instead of determination, fear resided in the depths of her heart. She of all people had the right to be afraid. She had two more daughters that would soon fit the age bracket of the Games. Two more daughters to sacrifice. Everything to lose.

This was why the moment a riot had broken out in the town square, Sharon had grabbed on to both her daughters and had run towards the safety of her house. She couldn’t risk their lives. If a peacekeeper aimed a gun at her, she could fight back. They couldn’t. So, she ran. When she had finally reached home, she had thought that the threat was over.

Looking at the peacekeeper that stood outside her house, she instantly realized how wrong she was.

The peacekeeper was strange. He walked hurriedly, with his head down as though not wanting anyone to see him. To recognize him. Sharon felt fear creeping inside her. She had to protect her daughters. 

He was getting closer to the front door. Sharon’t heart-rate increased. Why was he here? Did they want to kill them because of what the nice girl from 12 had said about Rue? “Girls, go inside, and stay there,” she ordered her daughters, who obliged instantly. They had just reached the back room when,

“Open the door!” The peacekeeper banged on the front door. The voice belonged to a woman. Sharon was scared of what was to follow. Could she honestly defend herself against a gun?

Slowly, cautiously, she made her way towards the door. Taking in a deep breath, she opened it a crack, when suddenly,

The female peacekeeper pushed open the door and quickly stepped inside. A frightened Sharon moved away. 

“What do you want from us?!” she shrieked in terror. She expected the peacekeeper to pull out a gun. But instead, her hand moved towards the clips of her helmet. She was removing her head-gear. But why?

As soon as the helmet was off, long, blonde hair draped across her uniform. Sharon stared in disbelief. 

“Kara?”

Kara hurried towards the poor, frightened woman and helped her settle down on a nearby chair. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that. I just had to sneak out of the building and this was the only way I could do it.” She gave the woman a glass of water, which she downed in one gulp, before finally beginning to calm down. A few minutes passed by in silence, when Sharon’s heart rate finally slowed down to normal.

“Why are you here?” the woman asked curiously.

Kara replied, “I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.” Looking down at her feet, she continued, “I truly am sorry for the trouble I caused at the ceremony. I didn’t mean to- I just-” She wanted to talk about Rue. To tell her how sorry she was about not being able to save her daughter. She wanted to tell her that Rue truly was one of the kindest persons she had ever come across on Terra.

All Kara could manage, however, was, “I’m sorry…”

It was the sincerity in her eyes, the earnestness in her voice that touched Sharon. Wordlessly, she got up and embraced the poor girl from 12. Words weren’t exchanged between the two of them, but both understood. Sharon didn’t hold what happened to her daughter against her. In fact, she was grateful for everything Kara had done for Rue in her final days in the arena. She had nothing to be sorry about. Sharon only hoped that with time, Kara would have the ability to forgive herself.

“Daisy, Camilia, come out here, it’s okay,” Sharon called her daughters out to the main room.

Kara observed, as two younger versions of Rue timidly stepped out. “It’s okay,” Kara spoke warmly. Only when their mother nodded, did the girls finally come and stand a little nearer. Kara was engrossed in their eyes. They each had big brown eyes, just like their sister. Instantly, she remembered the little time that she had with them. Kneeling down to their level, she removed from her belt, two, tiny pebbles that she had found outside on the ground near the town hall building. They were blank on one side. But on the other side, they were carved, with the precision of a laser. The carvings were the ‘S’ from her pin of hope. They were the Kryptonian symbol of hope. Kara had used her heat vision to engrave the pebbles.

Handing them each a stone, she asked, “You know what this stands for?”

“S is for science,” the older girl answered.

“That’s right,” Kara smiled. “But it stands for something else too. Where I come from, it stands for hope.” Kara paused, before repeating the words that she had once said to Rue. “As long as you have this, you’ll never be alone.”

Both girls took the pebbles in hand, gratefully. “Thank you!” they both said in unison. They proceeded to hug her, as Kara reciprocated, a warm smile on her face. “Now, if you ever get caught, just hide them away, in plain sight. Be careful, okay?” The girls nodded, but were pretty much entirely focussed on their gift.

Kara stood up. “I should go,” she said, turning to Sharon. The older woman held Kara’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you,” she said with a sad albeit grateful smile.

* * *

“There you are!” Effie exclaimed. “Did you have a good walk, dear?” she asked in an exaggerated tone. Kara understood what she was trying to do, and mutely nodded.

“Fabulous. Now, it’s getting late, the train awaits! Let’s go.” She quickly ushered Kara in the direction of the vehicle that was to take them to the train station. Continuing to walk, she only swivelled her head and thanked the head of security, who looked at them suspiciously, the mayor who waved them goodbye and everyone else who had made this visit possible.

About twenty minutes later, they were enroute their next destination. Kara knew she had a lot to discuss with Henry and a lot to apologize to Effie about. But for now, she simply sighed in relief, as an announcement was made overhead.

_ ‘Estimated time of arrival in District 10: Nine hours forty-six minutes.’ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Points to consider:  
> 1\. I honestly have no idea why I wrote all of this in one chapter. I could have ended it at the halfway point but, I just wanted to continue till the end! Maybe because of all the similarities that I wanted to address between Kara and Mon El. Also maybe because I'm excited about the next chapter!  
> 2\. Special mention for that line from Thea to Mon El: "We're not waiting for anyone,... including you!"  
> 3\. At this point, I would like all fans of Supergirl to pretend to not know Lena's last name!! (hehe!)  
> 4\. The speeches.... yeah...  
> 5\. Any guesses on who the woman in 12 was who raised her hand first??  
> 6\. The idea of the engraved marble came from a scene in the book where Katniss comes across some people making their way to the rebellion. They have with them a piece of bread that carries the Mockingjay sign. They use bread or other such items which they can quickly get rid of, or hide in plain sight (like rocks)
> 
> Thank You for Reading!  
> Until Next Time!


	5. Beacon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She's become a beacon of hope for them."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brave Kara, Career Mon El and Dangerous Snow

‘Hope.’

President Snow pondered over the word in disgust as he observed the footage from the Districts on the holos placed in front of him. Hope was a very dangerous thing. Left uncontrolled, it could spread like a wildfire, leaving behind the shreds of a broken system. It could render years of strategic planning to waste. It had the ability to decapitate the discipline instilled in a society. But worst of all, it could give people the will, the desire to fight back. It could convince people to rise against authority, an event which always led to destruction and chaos.

Hope was a nuisance.

And President Snow was currently monitoring the repercussions of this nuisance. Seated in his study, he observed the apparatus that had been set up in front of him. A grid of screens was affixed to the far wall. Each screen displayed security footage that was being relayed directly into the Presidential mansion. No one in all of Panem, without the permission of President Snow, was to access this feed, for it was to be used for strategic planning for the proper administration of Panem by the President himself. Each screen displayed what was currently happening in every district. Each screen held the fate of the Districts of Panem.

Surveying every screen one after the other, the President’s gaze settled on the screen on the bottom. District 11. The outline District had become a problem ever since the 74th Annual Hunger Games. Ever since the death of their female tribute. 

‘Ever since the farewell of their female tribute,’ Snow reminded himself. 

Because this hadn’t been the first time that a young tribute had been selected for the Games. District 11, of all districts, had offered countless Rue’s before. But that had seldom caused problems of such destructive nature. Because before, their tributes had simply died, and that had been all. Their death had never been marked by an act of significance. No tribute that had died in the arena had ever been given a teary farewell. Their corpses had never been bedecked with flowers. Before, their death had never mattered as much. Before, a tribute had never mourned the death of another tribute in the same arena.

Before, Kara Zorel had never been a tribute.

The name had come up more times than President Snow could allow. The girl from 12, the victor of the 74th Annual Hunger Games had become quite the cause of worry ever since her stunt in the Games. She had, on multiple occasions displayed her rebellious nature and her willingness to disregard the rules. She hadn’t seemed trouble in the beginning, for there was nothing significant about her, other than the fact that she had volunteered. Snow hadn’t noticed it then, nor had anyone else. But as the Games had progressed, her true intentions had become clearer. She wasn’t just a tribute now.

She was a rebel. One that needed to be stopped.

“She’s not who they think she is,” Snow began. “She’s simply trying to save her own skin. She does not have what it takes to cause a rebellion, let alone lead it.”

“I think that’s true.” The voice belonged to the only other man in the room, sitting across from the President. Not unlike the President, he too was eyeing the many screens in front of them. However, unlike Snow, this man did not sport a look of anxiety or displeasure. He was calm and collected, relaxed, a feat, considering how he was in the presence of the most feared man in Panem.

‘Plutarch Heavensbee,’ the file had read. Snow had been told that he had volunteered to be the next head-gamemaker, and since there weren’t many takers for the job, they had to accept. But Snow wanted to be sure. It was why he had called him in his mansion. This was an interview of sorts.

President Snow averted his gaze and stared at the man. Observing his calm demeanour, he said, “For a man who is witnessing the many troublesome riots that are happening all over Panem, you don’t look very concerned.” Changing his tone to a somewhat stern one, he continued, “Is that proper behaviour for a head-gamemaker or are you too naive to understand?”

The austerity of Snow’s voice however, did nothing to change the head-gamemaker’s composure. He simply turned and looked at the President. “I am well aware of the problems that have been caused,” he began. “I can see the effects of her actions in the arena taking place in the districts. But I don’t see that as a cause of worry. Because it’s nothing that cannot be taken care of.”

The response intrigued Snow, so he waited for the man to continue.

“The problem here isn't Kara Zorel, it's what she stands for. Right now, the districts see her as the girl who saved an innocent child. Someone who honoured her death and gave her a peaceful farewell. It's this image that we need to tackle."

"And how do you propose we do that?" Snow asked.

The head-gamemaker paused for a few seconds before he began. “Moves and countermoves," he said. “The only reason the districts are tolerating Kara Zorel is because they think she's one of them. They see her as just a common citizen of 12, a victim to the Games. We have to show them that she's one of us now. She's a victor now, surviving only because of the generosity of the Capitol. We need to display true power, true authority and the severity of punishment for those who wish to against it. Cut down the black market, take away what little they have. Then double the amount of floggings and broadcast everywhere. Sow fear into the very heart of the riots."

"It won't work," Snow interjected. “Fear does not work as long as they have hope and Kara Zorel is giving them hope. She's become a beacon of hope for them."

“Then plant fear in her mind," the head-gamemaker replied, causing Snow to fall silent again. “She's a victor now. That brings her in the direct jurisdiction of the Capitol. That includes the repercussions of going against it. After all,” the man continued, “A beacon's not of much use once it's extinguished."

President Snow was at a loss for words, as he fell silent and understood the head-gamemaker's plan. Unlike the many gamemakers before him, Plutarch Heavensbee had managed a most impossible feat. He had impressed President Snow. 'Moves and countermoves,' Snow thought. 

Reaching over to his table, he saw two bottles on the shelf. The one that was meant for if the interview went poorly was kept in the front. Snow pushed it aside and grabbed the good one.

Pouring it out and offering the new head-gamemaker a glass, he replied, “Brilliant."

* * *

“She finally stuck to the cards!"

Effie was celebrating. The people in the dining car of the luxurious victory tour train were being subjected to Effie's utter display of happiness. It was on two accounts. First, that they had finally reached the final day of the victory tour. The District 12 crew were currently on their way to the final destination on their itinerary: the Capitol. The past twelve days had been quite taxing on the team. Twelve days, twelve districts. The travel was quite hectic. The preparation before the actual appearances were even more so. Right from coordinating wardrobe, to hair and makeup, to meeting and greeting the District officials, everything had been achieved thanks to the collective effort of the prep team. Every member was tired. It was why no one was quite willing to talk in the little free time that they received while travelling from District 1 to the Capitol. It had been like an unwritten rule.

Effie, of course, was an exception to this rule. 

“I do hope Plutarch Heavensbee will be there, but from what I’ve heard about him, he’s a bit of a recluse.”

The woman truly was a force of nature, for she had worked constantly, tirelessly, for the entire duration of the victory tour. Even now, she was excitedly speaking about the Capitol without any sign of fatigue whatsoever. Left to her, nearly every second of the team’s free time would be utilized in planning for the next event. According to her, the victory tour was a test of her skills as a presenter, an organizer. She would never let trivial matters like sleep, food or rest come in the way of proving herself as the best. The best presenter all of Panem had ever seen.

Another factor that boosted her energy even more, was the fact that the 74th Annual Hunger Games had produced not one but two victors. That in turn meant there were two mentors, two prep teams, two design teams,

‘And two presenters,’ Effie thought, scornfully.

There was a very clear enmity between the presenters from District 12 and District 2. Both were almost exactly the same in terms of their enthusiasm about the Games, the victory tour and their work in general. Both even hated that they were being forced to share the title of the winning presenters for the recent Games. But even with many such similarities that existed between the two, Effie swore that she was ‘absolutely nothing like that smug, pompous waste of a life Don.’ Being the presenter of an outline District, Effie had often been considered as a weakling; a perception that was not something that the presenter of a Career District would ever have to face. It was why this tour had meant even more. It was a chance, an opportunity to shut the mouths of countless Capitol snobs that had never expected District 12, and by extension Effie herself, to ever achieve anything in the Games.

“Effie,”

The presenter instantly paused upon hearing her name. 

It was Kara. The victor from 12 looked absolutely miserable. One look at her dull face, accentuated with her sleepy eyes told Effie all that she needed to know. It was why even before Kara finished her statement, Effie understood exactly what she was about to say.

“I’m sorry but it’s just been a very long day,” Kara continued. “I think I speak for everyone when I say that we’re just super tired from everything. Is it okay if we just turn in for the day.”

The request was abrupt, a little rude considering how Effie had been interrupted mid-speech. But no one pointed it out. Because while her statement had been sudden, there was truth in it. The members of the District 12 team had been spread out in the dining car. The design team was seated on the plush couch, their heads resting against the head-rest. Lena was looking out the window, unaware of almost anything going on inside the car. The prep team was at the dining table, their elbows resting on the table-top, their heads resting in their hands, eyes almost shut. The mentor too was at the table, but looking a lot more awake than nearly everyone else. Kara was next to him, sitting on her chair with her legs crossed, her head resting on her knees. 

One look around her made Effie realize that she was the only one in the car who was still on her feet. Ignoring the blunt nature of the request, Effie replied. “Well, I suppose it has been quite a hectic day.” she said, recalling the busy day that they had had in District 1 and how they had departed from the place not hours ago. The team had been constantly working. And since District 1 was not as far from the previous District on their route, the free time during the travel from one district to the next had been all but enough. Perhaps the team deserved a break. 

“Why don’t we all just retire for the day. And I will see you all tomorrow at 6 a.m. sharp.” She surveyed the groans, the raised eyebrows and the ‘are you kidding us’ looks that the statement received, before quickly changing to, “Did I say 6? I meant 7...30. 7:30 am, sharp.”

Henry was the first one to rise. He wished everyone a good evening, and a good night in advance before making his way towards the sliding door of the dining car. Before exiting however, he placed a hand on Kara’s shoulder, silently enquiring whether she was okay. Once she responded with a half smile, he finally exited the car, walking away in the direction of his room.

Next to leave was the prep team. Each of them scuttled towards the exit and all but rushed towards their rooms, as though hurrying before Effie could change her mind. Next was Kara. The victor slowly got up from her chair. She bid a silent farewell to Effie. When the presenter gave her an empathetic smile, the victor couldn’t find it in her to respond with a short smile of her own. She simply nodded and left the car.

Kara knew that she was being a little stand-offish. Almost rude even. But she was either too tired to consider her behaviour, or still too affected by the events from that morning.

Not unlike nearly every day since she had returned from the arena, her day had started with a nightmare. She had seen herself back in the arena. Only, to make things worse, she was not alone. Her Earth-parents, her best friend Eve had all been there. Everything had been quiet. For the longest time, a prolonged silence had engulfed her, as she had stood in shock and observed the three people that she cared about the most, in front of her in the horrifying arena. 

It had all begun suddenly. The surroundings had all but disappeared, as pitch black had filled up the arena within the fraction of a second. Suddenly, just as abruptly as before, the darkness disappeared, giving way to a bright white flash of light that was equally intense, equally horrifying. Kara squinted in pain. It took her a second to recover from the sudden ambush of light. A second to suddenly realize something. To recall what was about to happen now.

She pried her eyes open and observed in panic as time slowed down. From the shadows of the dense forest, four Capitol mutations materialized out of thin air. Kara wanted to scream. She wanted to rush towards the three people in danger in front of her and whisk them away from there and towards safety. But she was stuck. It was as though an invisible rope was holding her in place, securing her feet to the ground. She tried her level best to break free, but couldn’t. One of the mutts had disappeared in the bushes. In alarm, she raised her head to look ahead, just in time to see the other mutts pouncing on her family one-by-one. She screamed, yelled, begged for the attack to stop. But it didn’t. A part of her realized that there was nothing she could do. She stood rooted to her spot, observing as the people she called her family struggled to fight the large mutts. She was crying, struggling to free herself, when suddenly

Three canon shots sounded from behind her. Kara froze. Because she knew exactly what the sound of canon in the arena meant. Breathing became difficult as she slowly realized what had happened. Her body stilled a second, and began trembling the next. Just like that, her family was gone. In one moment, she had lost everyone that she had cared about. She was the lone survivor again. She was alone again.

“Kara!”

The cry had made her turn suddenly, for she had recognized the voice.

Behind her, the fourth mutt, that had disappeared somewhere in the dense bushed, had reappeared and was attacking someone. Kara did not need a look at the victim’s face, for she had known exactly who it had been.

“Mon El!” She shouted, trying to run towards him. She had to help him, save him. But her feet were stuck to the ground again. She still couldn’t move. She was, yet again, forced to watch in horror, as the mutt aggressively tried to kill yet another person that she cared about. Mon El was trying his level best to fight back, but wasn’t able to, for his hands were tied. Kara had tied them, because she hadn’t trusted him in the beginning. How wrong she had been. If he died because of her-

The canon sounded again. The fight in front of her stilled. Everything else disappeared from view. Kara’s vision blurred suddenly, as she fell to the ground. All her power, all her will was being used up in continuing to breathe. It was as though someone had injected her with kryptonite. Consequences dawned on her. Tears fell freely now. There was no more staying strong. Because everything that was keeping her steady was gone. Everyone that she needed to be strong for was gone. She was alone again. The lone survivor.

The guilt threatened to overwhelm her. Pain was exploding in her mind. She was alone. The lone survivor.

In that moment, Kara had woken up screaming.

It had taken her some time to realize where she was. Some more time to realize that it had only been a horrible dream. That although it had been extremely realistic, (because most of it had been real), it hadn’t happened. Her family was safe back home in District 12. Her best friend was there too. They were all safe, awaiting her return. Everything was okay back in 12, back home.

Her thoughts had then landed on Mon El. The dream had made her realize that he was another person that she now cared about. The horrifying moment near the end of the dream was an indication to how intensely she wanted the alien from 2 to be safe. Ot made her realize just how important his presence had been in the arena. She couldn’t wouldn’t let anything happen to him. He represented a part of home, of her birth home. She couldn’t lose him.

The Career from 2 was safe now. But if he was anything like her, which Kara had realized that he was quite similar to her when it came to dealing with matters of guilt, then he was nowhere near okay. The victory tour had been nothing short of torture for the alien from 12. It was one thing to claim lives in the arena. That itself was a crime that could never be forgiven. But to go to the fallen tribute’s homes and face their families? It was downright unbearable. 

And she had done so eleven times, in eleven different districts.

The worst part about it all however, was the script that she was given. ‘Stick to the cards,’ Effie’s voice echoed in Kara’s mind. After the District 11 disaster, Kara had been instructed to strictly and totally stick to the written material that was handed to her before her appearance in the District. Henry had explained to her why it was all necessary. She understood why being honest was probably the worst thing that she could do in her victory tour. She understood how she needed to convince people that she was in no way against the Capitol. She had to prove that she did not support unity between the districts, and most of all, that she did not support a rebellion against the Capitol.

The last statement was easy to enact, for it was true.

Kara had seen the destruction of a world firsthand. She had seen her people dying right in front of her eyes, while being helpless to do anything about it. She knew a rebellion would cause exactly that. She could never bear to see destruction of a magnitude as big, one that involved the participation of each and every district in Panem. Countless, innocent lives in peril. Numerous deaths because she couldn’t stop people from acting out in rage. Kara could never let it happen. She had been the lone survivor of Krypton. She couldn’t be the lone survivor of Terra too.

So she had done exactly what she had been asked to do. She had stuck to the cards, or at least tried to do so to the best of her ability. The script that she was always given contained words that Kara would never use on her own. They were insincere, artificial. They contained phrases such as ‘Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever’ or even, ‘We all have one purpose alone. To tirelessly work for the enrichment of those who take care of us: the Capitol’. They were words that would in no way incite controversy. They had one message alone. That nothing would ever change. Her speech was a way for the Capitol to let the districts know that she was just a pawn. A trivial part of a system that they ruled entirely. Growing up, Kara had all but hated the speeches that victors would give, and could never understand why they would say such insensitive words. Now, she understood.

But as days of her tour had gone by, her thoughts had changed. The entire charade had made her hate the Capitol even more. She despised the system. There were moments, Kara realized, more frequent now than before the Games, when a part of her had actually considered the idea of a rebellion. For a few minutes, the idea wouldn’t seem so outlandish. ‘What if the people did rise against the tyranny, the injustice of it all? Would it necessarily end in the same way as Krypton? Maybe not.

Because she was no longer helpless here, was she? Unlike on Krypton, Kara was no longer a kid. To add to it, she had powers that the yellow sun gave her. She had both these factors working in her favour.

And then there was Mon El. 

Kara wasn’t alone anymore. She had the help of a being quite similar to her. He too had abilities like hers. Like her, he too cared as much about the people of Terra, and was certainly willing to do whatever he could to rescue them from the Capitol. The thoughts led her to ask herself again. 

‘Was a rebellion really a bad idea?

The question had left her mind when Octavia had informed her that they had reached District 1: the final district that they needed to visit, before wrapping up the tour in the Capitol. It made her realize another thing about the tour. But unlike all the other factors that the tour consisted of, this one managed to bring a small smile to her face.

The 74th Annual Hunger Games had accidentally crowned two victors. One was from an outline district, while the other was a Career. It was therefore extremely necessary to convince the people of Panem that there was nothing but enmity between both the victors. That meant that both victors needed to be as separate as possible. It was why the victory tour schedule that Kara’s team was given ensured that Kara and Mon El were never in the same District at the same time. To Panem, it would seem that both of them couldn’t stand to be in the same place. But reality was far from it.

Ideally, the Capitol could easily ensure that both victors never ran into one another. If Kara were to start from 11 and work her way to 1, while Mon El began from 1 and ended the tour in 12, then they could easily avoid each other all throughout the way. Unfortunately for the organizers at Capitol though, there was one factor that rendered this solution impossible.

Geography.

Both victors had to end the tour in the Capitol, where a grand celebration would be held in the presidential mansion in honour of the victors. However, the distance from 11 to the Capitol was incredibly vast. That meant that if Mon El were to travel all the way from the outline district, then he would waste an entire day, extending the tour to fourteen days instead of twelve. That was unthinkable. The chaos that that would create in their immaculately-planned itinerary. Effie, Kara was sure, would faint.

That was why both Kara and Mon El had been only one district apart from one another throughout the tour. In the end however, since Mon El was to skip his own home district, he would reach 1 on the same day as Kara.

The Capitol’s prowess had been humiliated by natural factors way beyond their control. The notion made Kara somewhat happy.

Another reason that she was looking forward to reaching 1, was meeting the one person that she had wanted to see the most at the moment. The one person that she wanted to ensure was doing alright. After having gone through all the things that she had, Kara wanted to see how Mon El was holding up. She had been following his tour on the holo on her train, but she knew through experience that all that was displayed was certainly not always true. She wanted to see for herself. Even if the encounter would probably be brief, Kara just wanted to see him.

The encounter however, never happened.

The arrival of the District 2 train, as it seemed, had been delayed. The reason given to them was ‘poor weather conditions on the path connecting 1 and 3. Everyone knew the real reason however. The delay had been enough to ensure that the District 2 victor’s team wouldn’t even reach the station the entire time Kara was in 1. Even after her visit had ended (it had been cut short due to ‘reasons’), and Kara had boarded the train that had departed almost immediately towards the Capitol, Mon El hadn’t reached.

The Capitol had won yet again. They always won.

That had been a few hours ago. Now, Kara was lying on the bed in her room, staring at the ceiling. She was exhausted, drained. It was as though the victory tour had depleted her reserves of joy and left her with bleak thoughts and a killer headache. She wanted to sleep, but her eyes wouldn’t comply. She knew the reason. They were too terrified from what they had seen in her previous dream. Too scared to witness something similar all over again. Instead, they opted to simply stare into the distance. Maybe time would pass, and she would find something resembling peace. She had time. Maybe the hollow feeling in her chest, caused by watching her family die would leave soon. 

A few hours passed by. The hollow feeling was still there, as she continued to stare into the distance when,

“Kara-” 

It was Octavia who was knocking on her room door. The girl had come to fetch her.

“We’re here.”

The words made Kara realize that she didn’t have enough time to deal with her state of mind. Not even close.

Because she was here. She had reached the place she most hated.

The Capitol.

* * *

'Could this day get any worse?'

Kara had asked herself the question far too many times today. And every time, the response had turned out to be along the lines of ‘Yes', ‘Of course' and ‘Obviously'.

Because one after another, the events of the day had simply gotten worse. 

Upon reaching the Capitol station, Kara had been assaulted by the bright flashes of cameras. She had almost brought her hands to her ears, as the sheer sound of the crowd that had gathered outside just to get a glimpse of the victor had bombarded her super-hearing with intense noise. It had done nothing to uplift her state of mind, and had actually made the already terrible headache much worse.

“Smile for the cameras, darling,” Effie prompted from behind. The presenter had a wide smile on her own face. So did everyone else, as Kara noticed that she was the only one who was scrunching in pain. She instantly brought her hands down and faced the audience, this time, with a smile. As fake as the grin was, it seemed that the Capitol paparazzi were all but eager to accept the victor’s facial expressions, hurrying to record the arrival of the train on their cameras.

The crowd was unrelenting. The fans (‘fanatic’ Kara thought) were over-excited. And yet, it seemed natural. Nothing was out of place. This was the Capitol, after all. This was their normal. Because of the crowded streets, it had taken much too long to reach the Capitol training centre, where she was to stay until her appearances.

‘Appearances. Plural,’ Kara thought bitterly. Not an hour in the Capitol, and she already wanted to go home. ‘This was going to be a long day.’

And a long day it had been. 

Her first appearance had been a press conference with the many reporters of the Capitol. It was during this event that she learned that the Capitol news reported some of the most useless nonsense known to man. Here, she had been asked several questions about ‘her insight on the Games,’ or what she thought about ‘the green palette of the 74th Annual Hunger Games, and how it affected the state of mind of tributes.’ Furthermore she was even asked about her hobbies (flying was one, but she kept that information to herself), her favourite place (not this), and her plans for the rest of the year, since she was a rich victor now who didn’t need to work for the rest of her life, and so could do whatever the hell she wanted, while people in her district toiled away, for it was that or death for them. The worst part however, was saved for the last, for in the end, she had been asked, ‘what advice she wanted to give to the kids watching.’

What was she supposed to say to that? ‘Hey kids, you can get rich and famous by killing people.’ It was at that point when it had been far too much for Kara to take. Her hate for the system only grew, as she realized yet again the way that the people perceived the Hunger Games. They actually saw it as a celebration, full with its many festivities. Kara was a victor in the Districts. Here, she was a celebrity. Because that’s all that it was for the people of the Capitol. The Hunger Games were a TV show, meant only for entertaining the people of the Capitol.

After that, she had been dragged to a costume change, followed quickly by another interview. This had become the routine for her day. Interview, costume, make up, repeat. That was all that she had done for the entire day, right until the evening when she had finally finished her big interview with Caesar Flickerman.

Caesar was pretty much the epitome of enthusiasm when it came to anything and everything related to the Games. He was the official host of the Games and so his show had elite status. It was imperative for all those who appeared on his show to be absolutely excited. Nothing less. Which meant that whatever Kara had been going through in the morning, the hollow feeling in her chest, it all had to wait. She had to appear extra-happy, almost ecstatic to greet her fans on the show. ‘The show must go on.’

The headache was worse now.

Now, she was standing at the entrance of a grand mansion: the most majestic place in all of Panem. It was the most important building in the Capitol, for it was home to the most important man in Panem.

“The presidential palace,” Effie exclaimed. “The party of the year!”

The mansion had been decorated extravagantly. Calling it majestic was an understatement. As soon as the large gate opened, allowing her to walk past the tall, imposing pillars at the entrance, it was as though Kara had stepped into a different land altogether. She realized how she had felt the same way when she had first come to the Capitol too. Compared to the districts, everything in the Capitol simply seemed alien.

‘Alien,’ she thought sarcastically.

As soon as she entered, she was greeted with a most picturesque view. The front lawn of the mansion spread all around the palace for yards on end. Normally, it would have provided the construct a calming, peaceful look. But today, it did none of that. The entire lawn was speckled with colourful lights while two grand fountains lay on either side of the winding stone path, the walk along which took quite some time before they finally reached the mansion.

The main entrance of the mansion was crowded, not unlike the train station. Not unlike at the station, the people here too were extremely thrilled to have the latest victor in their presence. Everyone wanted to meet her, some even asked for an autograph. But like the bodyguard of a celebrity would, Effie pushed through them, parting the crowd and creating a path to the entrance. “Keep moving,” she kept repeating to Kara, ushering her towards the entrance, ignoring all the cameras and autograph requests that were all but shoved into Kara’s face. Slowly, but finally, they reached inside.

* * *

The party at the presidential mansion was meant to be a grand celebration. It was an honour given to the victors for winning the Games. But now, as Kara thought about it, it was simply all the madness of the entire victory tour combined into one. More photographs, more interviews, more meet and greets and worst of all, more time witnessing first-hand, the contorted concepts of the Capitol.

Kara had spent the past hour or so (it seemed much longer) talking to porcelain faces with saccharine smiles. And everyone, nearly everyone had asked her the same thing.

‘What did it feel like when you won?’

‘I was scared out of my mind,’ she wanted to answer. ‘I felt like, in that moment, I was going to die. Or worse, I felt like dying would have been the better option. In that one moment, I realized that I am a killer, and there is nothing, nothing I can do to change that. I was so afraid of everything that the next moment would bring that I just wanted to run away. But it was fear that kept me glued to the ground. In that one moment, I realized that things were never going to be the same. And I hate that moment so much that I am going to try and fail for the rest of my life to forget it.’

But she didn’t tell them any of that. She didn’t let them know of the nightmares that had become a constant to her now. How could she? They didn’t care. 

After the longest time, Effie finally led her to a slightly quieter section of the mansion: the dinner buffet. It was the one place that people didn’t mind keeping their mouths shut for talking while eating was considered bad manners. Kara eyed the various stalls, grouped according to the type of food. It wasn’t until the smell of freshly cooked potstickers reached her nose and her stomach grumbled in response did she realize just how hungry she was.

Effie had, it seemed, observed how Kara was staring at the food, for she quickly came up to her and said, “You know what, honey, you’ve done a lot for today. Go ahead, enjoy everything. After all, all this is for you. You’ve earned it.”

‘By killing people,’ Kara wanted to say, but she kept her mouth shut and went straight towards the food stalls.

The food in the stalls, like everything else in the mansion, was extravagant. Delicious flavours wafted all across the large banquet that was filled with a variety of mouth-watering dishes. Kara began at the stall closest to her, and made her way across the different stylings of food. She hadn’t even reached about halfway through all the stalls when Kara was already full.

“Take this,” Flavius handed her a chute with a garish-green coloured liquid. “It makes you sick. So you can go on eating.”

At first, Kara had thought that she had misheard him. But when he pointed to the hoards of people rushing towards the washrooms with the drink in hand, she realized he was nothing but serious. 

Kara didn’t know how to react. She simply stood there with her mouth open and the glass of the ‘make sick’ drink in her hand. She had witnessed numerous things about the Capitol that had just seemed absolutely shocking. ‘But this! This was a winner,’ she thought. 

Just then, Effie came to her rescue as she called her out, causing her to snap out of her reverie, all but shove the chute back in Flavius’s hand and turn to see Effie hurrying through the crowd towards her. She had in tow a man whom Kara had never seen.

“Kara, this is Plutarch Heavensbee. The new head-gamemaker.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Kara said with her now common, fake smile.

Plutarch Heavensbee was a hefty man. His smile was one unlike that of people that she had come across in the Capitol. It was curt. In all her life, Kara had seen only one other person with a smile like that. President Snow. Unlike most smiles, this one was in no way casual and was far from depicting happiness of any sort. This smile meant business. It was almost like a warning. Like a threat.

“Oh no, the pleasure’s all mine, Miss Zorel. It’s great to be in the presence of a victor,” Heavensbee replied. Then, extending his palm, he asked her, “Would you please join me in a dance?”

Kara wanted to say no. She would have said no were Effie not around. But now, the presenter was staring daggers at her, thus causing her to respond to the invitation with a short, “Sure.”

The dance hall was massive. It was why even though there were quite a few people in there, it still didn’t seem much crowded. Kara observed the massive crowd of people, all wealthily dressed, all dancing to the beat. She couldn’t help but feeling out of place. In a crowd of people dressed in the most extravagant clothes Kara had ever seen, her own look was somewhat simple. She wore a simple light blue gown that extended down to her feet. Her hair was tied up in a fashionable bun while her makeup was kept subtle. It had been Lena’s intention, Kara recalled, to keep her look simple. That way, she would stand out in a swarm of overly fancy people.

“Madame,”

A man, a servant, Kara guessed, handed her a masquerade mask. It was then that she noticed that it was a masquerade ball. Everyone’s eyes sported fancy masks, leaving their face almost unrecognizable.

“Shall we?” Heavensbee asked. He led Kara near the centre of the room and quickly, they began dancing to the music.

A few seconds passed in silence, as Kara solely focussed on her steps. She wouldn’t want to accidentally step on the head-gamemaker’s foot and break his toes now, would she? (a part of her didn’t mind)

“So, how do you like the party?” he began.

“It’s a little overwhelming,” Kara responded curtly, displaying the indifference she had towards the conversation.

“It’s appalling.” Heavensbee’s response surprised Kara. She hadn’t expected anyone in the Capitol, let alone the head-gamemaker to use such terms for the presidential party.

“So, how about you?” Kara asked to fill the silence. “Are you having fun?”

To this, Heavensbee sighed and rolled his eyes. “Between you and me, I hate these parties. I’m actually on my way for a… strategic meeting.”

‘Right. The next Games,’ Kara realized.

“So the preparation for the Quarter Quell has begun already?” she asked.

“Well the construction of the arena began years ago, but the, shall we say feel of the Games is being decided now, yes.” Removing a pocket watch from his coat, he said, “I’m actually late already.

The watch was unique. The lid was locked by a puzzle of sorts. To open it, a bead had to be navigated through a zig-zag path and inserted into a slot.

‘Like a maze,’ Kara thought.

“That’s a funny watch,” Kara commented, to which Heavensbee smiled.

“It helps me plan things,” he responded.

As Kara looked at him, she suddenly saw something in his eyes. A flash of red, almost too quick to see. She was about to say something but before she could,

“Oh look,” Heavensbee said, “They’ve changed the song now. I really must get going.”

Kara turned in the direction of the live band when it struck her. “Then why were you here?” she asked, but as she turned, she suddenly realized, that he was gone. The head-gamemaker had disappeared into thin air, leaving Kara confused, and alone on the dance floor.

Kara tried to understand what had just happened, when a man came from behind and grabbed her elbow.

“Care for a dance, sweetheart?” he slurred his words.

That was when something in Kara simply snapped. Grabbing the hand that was holding her elbow, she pried it away. Then using some of her strength, she twisted the man’s arm, all but crushing it. “Don’t grab women, sweetheart,” she said coldly. A second later, she let go of his hand, causing the man to grab it with his other hand and whimper in pain. He looked at Kara incredulously before hurrying away from the ballroom.

Kara smiled. For the first time in quite long, her smile was genuine. Just as she was about to make her way towards the ballroom exit, she was stopped yet again, this time by a voice.

“That man had no manners whatsoever.” The man who was now standing besides her said.

Kara gave him a half-smile. She was about to excuse herself and make her exit when,

“I mean that’s not how you ask someone to dance,” the man continued. He then raised his hand in invitation and asked, “May I have this dance, please?”

Kara paused for a moment, before responding, “Sorry, I’m not in the mood.”

“Oh but I insist,” he continued just as Kara was about to turn away. “The personification of all that is good on Earth wouldn’t wanna be so rude as to reject a sincere request now, would she?”

Kara instantly turned and looked at the man. It was then that she noticed. Unlike the extravagant dresses all around her, this man was dressed in a simple, navy-blue suit. Unlike most others in the party, he carried himself properly, standing up straight. His smile was warm and sincere, not artificial and exaggerated. The final piece of the puzzle was his voice and the words he had used.

‘Mon El’

“You know,” he said, “where I come from, it is the height of insult to refuse a dance,” he smiled.

Kara found herself smiling as well, as she quickly responded faux seriousness, “Well now, we wouldn’t wanna be culturally insensitive now, would we?” With that, she placed her hand in his.

The two victors quickly began dancing. Swaying with the music, Kara realized that for the first time in the Capitol, she was feeling relieved. It was as though a weight had been taken of her shoulders. She wasn’t alone anymore.

“I heard about what happened in 11,” Mon El began in a hushed voice, careful not to let the people around them hear. “Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes filled with concern.

Kara understood what he was asking. She knew that news about the riots of District 11, though not meant to, may certainly have reached far and wide. She recalled the panic that had ensued that day. The danger that she had put those people in. Considering everything, was she okay? “I will be,” she replied, truthfully.

Mon El gave her a sad smile. For quite some time, the duo simply danced. Both of them knew that they had a lot to talk about, a lot to say. Kara wanted to tell him about what Henry had told her about changing people’s perceptions, while Mon El had seemed worried, as though he needed to tell her something too. But this was neither the time, nor the place. For now, they were simply two people, swaying with the soft music.

Just then, a man rushed past them with a chute of green liquid in hand. Both victors from the Districts recognized the drink. Both eyed the man angrily.

“People are dying in the districts,” Mon El began in a whisper, in a volume only Kara’s enhanced hearing could catch, “and they’re throwing up so they can go on eating.”

Kara understood his anger. She felt it herself. But she didn’t say anything in response, for she knew that a topic as controversial as this one was best spoke about in the comforts of the wood in the outskirts of District 12.

A few more moments passed, as Kara realized that of all the things that she was seemingly supposed to enjoy during the victory tour, this moment was perhaps the one that she appreciated the most. Among others, the reason being that she was spending time with the one person that she actually wanted to spend time with on the tour. Mon El was an alien, a victor, a friend. He understood exactly what she was going through in such terse moments. He understood how difficult it was to simply ignore a wrong just to safeguard their alien identities. He understood her.

The moment however, was short lived, as Kara suddenly noticed someone in the far distance.

President Snow was standing at the entrance of the ballroom. He was looking directly at her. He turned back and whispered something to his guards. A second later, two of his guards quickly stepped into the dance room and started looking around them, as though they were searching for something.

Someone.

“Snow’s here,” Kara suddenly whispered. She tensed up a little, but Mon El asked her not to.

“Keep dancing,” he said in a low voice. “Where?” he asked, his eyes alert.

“Behind you, at the entrance.”

Mon El kept dancing, not letting anyone know what he was currently thinking. His eyes quickly scanned the rooms. He spotted the two guards that were almost closing in on him and Kara. He understood that the two of them could not be seen being cordial with each other, let alone dancing with one another. A few seconds later, he whispered, “Follow my lead.”

The song changed again. Mon El led Kara to a somewhat crowded area of the room and stayed there for a moment. They had to keep moving. Stopping in a crowded dance room would certainly pull attention.

So they moved. As the music continued, Kara and Mon El, with coordinated steppings, steadily made their way towards the exit. Keeping an eye on the two guards at all times, the duo danced, keeping their faces hidden from the guards at all times. A moment came when Mon El was almost face-to-face with one of the guards. In that moment, he dipped Kara, while she managed to fall in his arms gracefully. The guards were nearing them. They were almost to the exit.

* * *

“I’m sorry, sir,” Snow’s bodyguard reported. “We followed the girl you pointed at for as long as we could, but we lost her. There’s no sign of Kara Zorel or Mon El Roqford anywhere. They’re not here,” he said gesturing to the ballroom.

Snow nodded. As he turned to leave the room, he smiled inwardly.

* * *

They had done it. He had gotten them out

Kara was briskly walking towards the grand entrance of the mansion. She had told her that she wanted to retire quickly, for she wasn’t feeling well. As soon as Effie had given her the okay, Kara had marched across the large palace and nearly sprinted away towards the doors. 

She could see the grand entrance now. The lights were still illuminating the outside pathway. She figured she had had enough of this place. She would simply go to her room on the train. She could enjoy some peace and quiet there. She was almost at the door when

“Going somewhere, miss Zorel?”

The words came from the shadows. The tone caused her to stop suddenly. She turned slowly, in fear, towards the direction of the voice.

Kara’s breath got caught in her throat.

“President Snow,” she said in an unnerved tone. “What an honour.”

The president simply smiled in response, the grin sending chills down Kara’s spine. “Shall we go for a walk?” he gestured towards the rose garden. But instead of waiting for a response, he simply began walking. Kara understood. She had no choice. She mutely followed.

* * *

“Such bravery,” President Snow began, pointing at a hollow that lay on the garden table. The white roses around them were overwhelming both in sight and smell. “Such spirit.”

Kara watched as the holo displayed her and Mon El’s final moments in the arena.

“Such… contempt.”

Kara was silent as she observed the exact moment that had caused all the problems. The moment both of them had refused to kill one another. The moment the hologram mutt had appeared. The moment she had held Mon El’s hand.

“I have a problem, miss Zorel,” Snow continued. “A problem that began the moment you agreed to an alliance with a man not from your own district. A problem that only worsened when Seneca Crane had not one but two tributes pulled out from the arena to be crowned as victors. I don’t understand why he did what he did, because if he had any brains at all, he would have had that mutt take you down then and there.”

He paused a little, as though for emphasis.

“But here you are,” he continued. “Now, you can imagine why he’s not here.”

Kara understood. Suddenly it was all clear, far too clear how the head-gamemaker of the 74th Annual Hunger Games had died.

“But you handled it well,” Snow smiled as he continued. “The classic double cross, it was very impressive. And you played your part wonderfully. You had everyone in the Capitol convinced.”

The smile disappeared, as he paused. He removed a bottle from a nearby shelf and poured it into two glasses that lay on the table. He offered Kara a glass.

“I don’t drink,” Kara replied, causing the smile to reappear on Snow’s face. 

He set the glass down and grabbed the other one. Only after he took a sip, did he begin speaking again. “Unfortunately, not all the people from the Districts fell for it.” His tone changed to a little colder now. “They viewed your little alliance as an act of unity. You’re not supposed to know this, but there are many who view what you did in the arena as an excuse to defy the rules and in extension defy the Capitol itself.” He pressed a button on the holo on the table, the feed was quickly replaced with the footage of a large crowd of people causing ruckus in a riot. Kara did not need to be told where the footage was from, because she herself was a part of it.

The riots of District 11.

“This was the scenario when you visited District 11,” Snow said. “I hope, for your sake that it is not what it seems, because from what I see here, your speech caused those people to riot. Your speech gave them a reason to fight authority and if this continues, then who is say that it won’t lead to something much more problematic? Who is to say that it won’t cause… an uprising?”

Kara looked up at Snow upon the mention of the word.

“You performed bravely in the arena, but those were just Games. Can you imagine what it would be like out in the real world? Can you imagine the destruction a revolution would cause? Can you imagine hundreds of thousands of your people dead, gone in a second, just like that?”

A single drop of tear dropped from her eye before she could stop it. Because the truth was, that she didn’t need to imagine the scenario that Snow had just described. She had lived it.

A moment passed, before she responded numbly, “I understand.”

“You understand what?”

“I’ll convince them. The broadcast, the interviews, everything that will follow. I will convince the people.”

To this, Snow smiled again. “Oh no, miss Zorel. I don’t want you to convince them.” Looking at her directly in the eyes, he said, 

“Convince me.”

With that, he got up and walked over to the nearest bush. Plucking a white rose, he handed the flower to her. “For you,” he smiled. As soon as Kara accepted, he made his way towards the mansion. Before leaving however, he walked over to the holo and pushed a button. “Do convince me, Kara.” Turning to her, he said, “For your sake. And of those you want to protect.”

Kara stared at the footage that was now playing on the holo in shock. It was her, sneaking into Rue’s house. It was a clear shot of her hugging Rue’s mother and giving Rue’s sisters the pebbles with the hope symbol engraved on them.

* * *

Back on the train, Kara stared at the scenery that rushed by outside. She was trying her best but failing to calm herself. There was no hope to calm down anymore. Because in her mind, only one thing remained.

Fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Points to consider:  
> 1\. I would like to highlight the fact that if Snow hadn't liked Plutarch, he was going to kill him. So yikes!  
> 2\. For all Hunger Games fans, I recommend the 'Bad Lip Reading of Catching Fire' on YouTube. It is hilarious and all I could think about when Effie was entering the mansion!  
> 3\. I have taken some liberty in the storyline, as you already may have noticed. So, Plutarch Heavensbee may not be what he was in the films...!  
> 4\. 'Don't grab women, sweetheart' I LOVE IT!  
> 5\. If you're interested for the music in the ballroom dance scene, I recommend listening to 'The Don Waltz' on YouTube/Spotify.  
> 6\. So, you know how Kara and Mon El dance in 2x05? They have their glasses on there that hide their identities. Here it's a masquerade mask!! I love this!!!  
> 7\. Poor Kara
> 
> Welp, I was so excited to write this chapter mainly because of all the canon scenes! And I hope the chapter's not very long! Do let me know how you liked it!  
> Thank You for Reading!  
> Until Next Time!


	6. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Home"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going on the victory tour was difficult. Returning from it is even more so...

She was home.

Kara observed the crowd that had gathered at the District 12 train station in order to welcome their victor. It was sparse and scanty when compared to the crowds that she had seen in the Capitol and some of the Districts, but for District 12, this was plenty. For her, this was plenty, for she did not want to spend another minute in the spotlight. She wanted to run away. To hide in her house, her old house, where no one could bother her. A part of her was even convinced that if she could remain hidden for long enough, she might be written off of people’s memories. She could escape the fame, the popularity. Perhaps, if she could stay hidden for long enough, people could forget that she was the victor of the 74th Annual Hunger Games. 

She knew she had tried to forget it herself. Countless times.

But she couldn’t. No one could, for that was not how things were supposed to be. Victors were a symbol of the generosity of the Capitol. For participating (as if there were a choice) and winning, they were showered with riches far beyond anything that the people of the Districts had ever come across. Poor, starving tributes were suddenly given more wealth than they had seen in a lifetime. Plentiful food, expensive clothing. A house, among other things, was built especially for the victors in an area of the district called, ‘Victor’s Village.’ Each district had such an area. It consisted of houses that had been funded and constructed entirely by the Capitol. The reason being, that victor houses were meant to stand apart, to be the centre of attention in the district. And the centre of attention they were. In a place where every single house was marred by poverty, those that were built in accordance with the luxurious design of the Capitol would always stand apart. 

It was far too clear why this was done. The income for life, the special status given to them in their districts, the fame, the fortune, it was all meant for a reason. It was the Capitol’s way of letting people know that they owned the victors now. That by letting one tribute survive in the arena, rather than just slaughtering all twenty four tributes at once, the Capitol had shown them mercy. In turn, the victors had to showcase just how grateful they were, and all of Panem should be, for the benevolence of the Capitol. That was their purpose now. That was all they had to do. Everyday, for the rest of their lives.

Kara Zorel was to remain in the spotlight for years to come.

The fake smile had returned. The moment the train had stopped, Kara had stepped out onto the station and greeted the many people of her district that had come to welcome her, with a bright smile and a wave of her hand. She surveyed the crowd. It consisted mainly of gloomy faces, some she knew, others she had only seen in passing in the labs. All of them had one thing in common. Fatigue. Each face was marked with exhaustion that only working for long hours in the district labs could guarantee. Tired, overworked, these people would much rather stay home. They had no interest in the celebration that were the Games. But their choices were inconsequential. What they wanted simply didn’t matter.

Because the Capitol demanded a celebration. One that marked the end of the victory tour. One where people could come together in the town square and rejoice, for the glory, the honour that their victor had brought upon their district. The final day of the victory tour, referred to as ‘The Harvest Festival,’ was a celebration dinner. Citizens of the district gathered on the vast grounds near the town hall for a feast, the food for which was provided by the Capitol for the winning district only. Every other district simply had to make do.

It was still, perhaps the only good thing that came from winning the Games. The winning district was given food for the entire year. It meant that for one year and one year alone, people that would otherwise be dying of starvation, would suddenly be graced with more than they could ever ask for. It would all continue until the next victor was crowned. After that, it was back to starvation and death. It was why some considered the Harvest a curse. It was a reminder not of what they had gained, but of what they would lose in the year to come. Many districts even rejected the food, relying only on their usual share. But District 12 was not among those, for a victory here was a rare achievement. In the seventy four years since the very first Games, 12 had had only one victor. Henry Allen had won his Games twenty one years ago. That meant that for a little more than two decades, District 12 hadn’t known what it was like to sleep with a full stomach. It was why people weren’t as angry as they usually were for the Harvest festival. This year the festival actually meant something to them. This year, they had hope to celebrate. Kara had given them that hope.

And now, she needed to take it back.

Looking around her, she quickly located the two people that she was actually glad to see. Unlike the fake amiability that she had greeted numerous people with, standing at the front of the crowd, were two people that she had missed and had been worried about ever since the talk that she had had with President Snow. The memory sent a chill down her spine, but she quickly regained herself. Walking towards her parents with hurried steps, she realized how her parents were in direct shot of the many cameras on the station that were recording her arrival. She suddenly realized just how defenseless she was to protect them.  _ ‘For your sake, and of those you wish to protect.’ _ Snow’s words rang in her mind. Kara embraced her parents with a little more strength than usual. She could tell just how pleased they were to see her. They had missed her. She had them as well. Who knew twelve days could in reality be such a long time. 

When she finally separated, Alura looked at Kara with concern in her eyes. She was searching for something on her daughter’s face. There was something wrong, Alura could tell. Kara knew she couldn’t lie to her. She knew keeping things from her was impossible, thanks to her telltale crinkle that fortunately only a few people on Terra knew about. ‘I’ll explain later,’ Kara tried to tell her Earth-mother, without arousing any suspicion from those around them, especially the cameras. Fortunately, Alura understood.

Once the grand welcome ceremony, consisting mainly of wide smiles and Kara waving a little more to the audience, was over, the District 12 victory group made its way towards the District 12’s mayor’s house, the one closest to the town hall. It was meant as a resting place, a waiting area until the feast began in the evening. Technically, the tour was still not over. Hence Effie, her prep team and the design team had all accompanied Kara to the house.

When she reached the door, it was opened before she could even knock, and Kara was instantly greeted with a tight hug. A few long seconds later, Eve finally pulled back. Behind her, Mayor Tessmacher greeted them with a pleasant smile. Kara had always admired his ability to maintain a pleasant face even in the most dire of times. It was something she needed to learn herself. She knew she would need it.

Once inside, the Mayor welcomed them into the living room where a bubbling prep team, a talkative design team, an energetic but tired Effie and a quiet Lena, all settled down. They were free for the next couple of hours. That meant sitting together and talking about anything and everything that had absolutely nothing to do with Kara’s costumes or her hairstyle or her look or pretty much anything related to it.

Excusing herself from the lively chatter, regarding the latest trends in snow shoes, that had broken out in the Mayor’s living room, Kara stepped out and made her way towards the kitchen. 

The Mayor’s house was enormous. It was the biggest house in District 12, with the exception of the houses in Victor’s Village. The Mayor was wealthier than most, owing to how he was appointed for the post directly by the Capitol. It was yet another way to spread distrust among the people of the Districts. Having one person wealthier than the rest, ensured a sense of dislike among the people for that person. Being appointed directly by the Capitol, Mayor Tessmacher and his family had privileges that others didn’t. To the people of the districts, such privileges were unjustified. As a result, people almost always looked at the mayor with scornful eyes, just like the Capitol had intended for them to.

But Kara saw things differently. Owing to her friendship with Eve and the fact that the Mayor had always been kind enough to buy squirrel meat from Kara, she had understood that Mayor Tessmacher, like all others, was a victim of the horrible system that they had in place. It was somewhat worse for the man, because along with orders from the Capitol, he was also required to run a district full of people that despised his authority. But he was a decent man, who fortunately had a somewhat lax attitude towards law enforcement. Kara understood and appreciated that even more now, for she had visited other districts during her tour, and had seen just how stern some mayors could be. 

“Need some help?” Kara asked as soon as she reached the kitchen, where the Mayor and Eve were busy stacking plates of food for their guests. The Tessmacher’s had been close to the Zorel’s, both families often inviting the other over for lunch or dinner. Kara and Eve had visited each other’s home ever since they had been children, helping out the adults in whatever way they could. 

“Oh no, thank you, dear,” the Mayor said with a pleasant smile. “You’ve just arrived, I’m sure you must be tired.” Turning to his daughter, he said, “Eve, why don’t you two go to your room? She’s just come back from the victory tour, I’m sure you two have a lot to catch up on.”

“Are you sure?” Eve enquired.

“Yes, you two go on,” the Mayor replied, “I’ll take care of everything here.”

With that, the duo exited the kitchen, not before Eve grabbed something to eat for both her and Kara, and made their way towards Eve’s room.

“Are you okay?” Eve asked the moment they were alone. She too had noticed the strange look in Kara’s eyes the moment she had stepped out of the train. A look that she had anxiously recognized as fear. 

“I’m fine. It’s just a lot, you know? The tour.” Kara played it off. She knew Eve had it in her to figure out when Kara was lying. But Kara could, under no circumstances, involve her best friend in the mess that she had created. She couldn’t tell her about President Snow’s warning. She had to keep her safe, just like she had to protect everyone that she held dear. 

_ ‘For your sake, and of those you wish to protect.’ _

“Anyway, uh-” Kara began, changing the topic entirely. “Did you know that this is all the rage in the Capitol right now?” Kara said tugging the left sleeve of her jacket. She sighed mentally, as she noticed how she had managed to convince Eve and had successfully pulled her attention away.

“The dress?” Eve asked.

“No, the pin,” Kara said, pointing to the hope pin on her sleeve. It had become a permanent part of her wardrobe now. The golden-green pin that resembled the symbol for hope in her native tongue, was a constant companion for Kara, for it had been a part of her right from the moment she had entered the arena. “Sure you don’t want it back?” Kara smiled. 

“Of course not,” Eve retorted with a grin. “It was a gift. Besides, I think it’s kinda funny that the Capitol suddenly considers a pin that I bought as a kid, at the black market, no less, a fashion statement!”

Both of them laughed. They then began listing out the numerous other ordinary things that they could convince the people of the Capitol to be fashionable accessories (Eve suggested pen caps as earrings, Kara imagined a dress patterned with toothbrushes and combs). With that, the two of them chatted away, and Kara, for the first time since the tour, felt normal. She realized that this was probably the first time in twelve days that she had genuinely laughed, without having to worry about the Capitol always watching her every move.

The duo continued their chit-chat until they heard the Mayor calling them downstairs. It was then that both of them realized that it had been hours since they had been talking. From the window in Eve’s room, Kara could see a crowd forming near the town hall. The feast was to begin in an hour.

Kara and Eve made their way downstairs. Kara entered the living room to find her prep team already busy, readying her costume for her. They ushered Kara towards the changing room, while Eve was busy convincing Effie of the pros of a cleaning mop for shoes. Within fifteen minutes, Kara was ready. Her look was kept deliberately simple, in order to symbolize that she was one with the people of her district. Thankfully, there were no speeches to give. Kara simply had to be present on stage while the mayor ensured that the feast was properly conducted. Kara therefore had nearly half an hour to spare.

Eve was to be on stage as well (Kara felt relieved upon finding that out). She had therefore gone to her own room to change, leaving Kara alone in the waiting area outside the living room. Kara decided simply to relax for a bit. She knew she had quite a few things to consider, especially after the tour was over. Because that was when she would actually need to plan things out properly. The next few months were crucial, if she wanted to uphold her deal with President Snow. She needed to convince the people of Panem that unity between Districts was a figment of their imagination. To do that, she had to make use of interviews, broadcasts from 12 and all other events that had been planned for her in the coming months. Her job as a tribute was over the moment she had left the arena. Her job as a victor was just beginning.

But for now, Kara simply observed everything that was happening in front of her. Her prep team was scuttling about, gathering everything that they owned and packing it in bags. The District 12 victory team was to finally leave for the Capitol at night. Even though Effie was to return a few weeks later to get Kara prepped up for her first interview next month, the team was still worried about accidentally leaving important things, like their favourite nail clippers, behind. 

Outside the living room, along the long corridor, a door was left slightly ajar. It was the Mayor’s office. In all the ruckus, Kara’s enhanced hearing caught a faint beeping coming from the room. Having nothing else to do, Kara decided to check it out. She knew she couldn’t enter the Mayor’s office, but at least she could inform him if something urgent required his immediate attention.

She stood outside the door and peered inside. The beeping belonged to a messaging device kept on the table. From the symbol on the screen, Kara figured it was a message from the Capitol. Kara stared at the apparatus for a few seconds, unsure of whether the Mayor was to be summoned, when suddenly, the symbol vanished, and the screen came to life. It was a video recording of what looked like total chaos. A large crowd of people had gathered somewhere and were causing massive destruction in what appeared to be a factory. Kara stared, as the people broke through a barricade of peacekeepers and caused a ruckus. The peacekeepers were trying to make use of jets of water among other countermeasures to try to contain the situation, but were failing. 

Kara stared, frozen to her spot. The people were rioting, but this wasn’t District 11. From the factories in the feed, Kara realized,

People of District 7 were rioting.

But this was much more intense; more than she had ever witnessed. District 7 was the Weapons district, causing an extremely dangerous situation. Bullets were being fired everywhere. People and peacekeepers were dying. Looking at everything in shock, her breath caught in her throat, Kara could formulate only one coherent thought.

_ ‘An uprising.’ _ President Snow’s voice rang in her mind.

* * *

Mon El tried to concentrate on his breathing.

He needed to cut out all the noise around him if he wanted to focus on his work (that was the reason a few hours ago. Now, he just wished to retain his sanity). 

It had been a month since his victory tour had ended. A month since his enhanced senses had gone into overdrive, refusing to back down no matter how hard he tried. Focussing on his own heartbeat was a trick he used when the noise became unbearable. But now, after hours of trying, it still hadn’t worked.

‘Perhaps returning to the factory wasn’t the best idea at the moment,’ a voice in his head commented, sarcastically.

A week after District 2 had welcomed their victor on the final day of his tour, Mon El had been given the option of rejoining work. Technically, victors were free from working in their respective District factories, and were simply asked to pick up a hobby to pass time (the rest of their lives) during the off time that they would have in between mentoring for the Games. Careers however, were offered choices, since a list of hobbies were created for them by their District. As a result, Mon El had been given three options. He could either work in the factories just like he used to before the Games, or mentor at 2’s academy, or simply stay at home and while away the rest of his life.

Whiling away time wasn’t an option, for neither his training, nor his state of mind would allow it. Most victors took up mentoring jobs at the academy, but he knew that too was a dead end, for ever since he had returned home from the arena, he hadn’t stepped foot into the training centre. 

That had left him with the factory. It was the least popular victor-occupation owing to the long hours. But as it turned out, Mon El was given a flexible schedule that could be varied according to his (interviews, public appearances, etc) needs. He was even waived off of tedious, tiresome work. He was given simple tasks throughout the day, and even his own cabin to complete them. Although allowed to leave by late afternoon, Mon El preferred to stay until the other shifts were over, simply because he could.

The entire situation was pretty clear to him. He was a victor now. That gave him a special status in his own district. He was no longer a citizen of District 2. His own people were not like him anymore. He was a victor now, with importance comparable to that of the citizens of the Capitol. It was a fact that he despised, yet one that the Capitol liked to remind him at every turn. 

Either way, he had chosen to work in the factories for a reason he hadn’t quite been able to explain to himself. Growing up, Mon El had hated the factories. The utter lack of safety for workers had appalled him. It was as though the workers were considered lab rats: lose one, another would take its place. Mon El remembered how his family had been given exactly one day to process his Earth-father’s death. Rhea and Mon El had been given an hour’s break from work. He had been given an additional fifteen minutes to break the news to Maya and collect her from school. The Mayor had presented Rhea with a medal of valor, and Mon El with a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. After that, they had been ordered back to work.

Then there was the question of his own safety. The place had been a maze of noise and lead. The noise, he had tried his best to control on his own, while Winn had helped him when working with the lead components. To add to it, ever since he had returned, his hand had been getting sudden and frequent tremors. As a result, he had to choose the components he could work with, without damaging both his hand as well as the piece of machinery he was working on.

Despite every factor telling him not to, Mon El had somehow ended up here. Maybe it was to gain normalcy. Perhaps the schedule was a way to keep himself sane. Either way, now, as he struggled to focus on his work, he realized that he truly didn’t know.

Suddenly, a metal clang caught his attention, causing him to sharply turn his head towards the source.

The lights in the corridor outside his cabin were shut off, telling him that the people working in the adjacent department had left already. Mon El quickly rose from his chair and soundlessly made his way towards the glass door of the cabin. Without even realizing it, he grabbed the pen-knife that lay innocently on his desk, that was actually meant to be used for repairing the internal cooling system of a class-n holo. His other hand grabbed the door handle (a part of him noticed that the tremor was gone, but he ignored it for now). Taking note of the cameras in the corridor (he spotted five), he waited inside his office until all of them were facing the other way. Once that was done, he swiftly stepped outside.

With the pen knife gripped tightly in his hand, he slowly, steadily made his way through the silent, unlit corridor. A part of him noticed that the noise was gone now too. His ears, all his senses were focussed entirely on what lay beyond the corridor. He was almost at the end. The grip on the pen knife tightened a little. His mind was instantly trained on the strategy he would use to gain an upper hand on his attacker. He was prepared for every situation, even if the attacker was armed. One step away from the end, he kept the hand with the knife low, in order to surprise the attacker when-

“Oh my gosh!” Winn stumbled back in surprise.

In a split second, Mon El’s head turned to check the other side, ensuring that there was no one but Winn there. Before Winn could even recover from the surprise, Mon El had already checked every possible direction that an intruder could come from. Once sure, he looked back at his best friend who had a hand on his own heart, trying to calm himself from the sudden encounter.

“Man, I’m buying you some noisy boots!” he exclaimed. 

Just then Mon El snapped back to reality. He realized that he was still holding the pen-knife in his hand. Before Winn could notice, Mon El quickly leaned against the pillar at the end of the corridor, effectively hiding his hand. In the next second, he dropped the knife, which landed on its tip and got stuck to the ground.

“Yeah, sorry,” he began, drowning out any sound the knife might have made upon its contact with the ground. “I was uh- I was just leaving for the day.”

Winn took another couple of seconds to relax, before he replied. “So soon? I thought you usually didn’t leave until after the entire factory was empty.”

“Yeah, I just- I just wanted to go for a walk. I’ve got this headache, you know?” Mon El left it at that. He didn’t offer any other explanation, and Winn didn’t need one either. 

He only nodded in response and said, “Yeah, right, you get those. Well, get some rest and maybe don’t come in tomorrow.”

Mon El only smiled. He didn’t want to. He honestly didn’t mind staying away from this place. But a part of him knew already that he would be standing here at this exact spot tomorrow as well, working for reasons unknown, even to himself.

With that, he bid Winn farewell, while the man, who had actually come to check in on his best friend, told him that he had some unfinished work in the quadrant. As soon as he was gone, Mon El picked up the knife that was stuck on the floor. He turned and made his way to put it back, not noticing that Winn had indeed seen him with the knife.

As soon as he stepped outside the factory grounds, Mon El was met with fresh, lead-free air. With each step he took, the air got cleaner, while he noticed that the noise too became blurrier. Once outside the factory's vicinity entirely, he continued walking in a seemingly random direction. But it was well chosen. While his feet carried him, almost out of habit now, towards the district fence, his mind wandered back to what had just happened. 

He couldn't believe what he would have done, had Winn not revealed himself at the last possible second. He hadn't even noticed the knife until after Winn had exclaimed in shock. It was as though he was doing this subconsciously. All it had taken was a clang near the end of the corridor. One little sound and he had instantly jumped into action. What if he hadn’t seen Winn? A second’s delay, and he would have slashed the knife at his best friend.

‘What was I thinking?!’ he asked himself, irritatedly. A part of him provided the answer. It said that he wasn’t thinking. He was doing this intuitively. It was like a reflex he had developed.

Another part of him, a major part argued that he was actually well aware of what he had been doing. A distant part of him had observed as his hand had reached for the knife. It had intended to use it as a weapon. He had willingly, with steps as silent as thought, walked towards the sound, ensuring along the way that the cameras didn’t catch any of it. Keeping the knife held low, he had even ensured to surprise the attacker. He had thought like a killer, like a Career,

Like a survivor.

With the realization, the tremor in his hand was back. He gripped the trembling hand with his other one and looked around him, surveying the area for unwanted eyes. He had reached the fence. Ensuring once again that he wasn’t being followed, he ducked under the weak point of the barrier, the point where the connection was cut loose, and crossed over to the other side. He needed to be away from everything. He needed to regain control of his own thoughts.

He just hoped that she would be there, this time.

* * *

Kara was standing outside what appeared to be an abandoned building. It was in a separate part of the district altogether. Years ago, when the geographical boundaries of the districts had been decided, each district was left with free land, in case of expansion. It was meant to be free grounds for the growth and prosperity of the districts. However, after the rebellion, the right for this land had been taken away, for people of the districts were deemed unworthy of prosperity.

Instead, the land had been reserved by the Capitol. For what, no one in the district had been sure, until 12 had gained its first victor. Henry Allen, as it turned out, was allowed to make use of a part of the land for whatever purpose he intended. He could either use it to build something, a statue perhaps, or use it for carrying out research for the district. Either way, a part of the land belonged to him. 

And he had made use of it as space for a now old, abandoned building.

When Kara had asked to meet with her mentor, he had told her to wait for her here. When she had enquired about the reason, he had simply told her to wait for him.

“Thank you for coming.”

Kara turned to see Henry greeting her with a nod.

“Why did you want to meet here?” she asked. But rather than answering her, Henry walked past her, towards the locked wooden door. From his coat pocket, he removed a small key and unlocked it. Then, he simply gestured for her to follow him inside.

The building was just as old from inside as it was on the outside. It was a large, dusty room. The opening of the door had disturbed some of the dust, causing it to move in the air around them, causing them to cough and wave the tiny dust particles away from their noses. Henry walked to the adjacent wall towards a board of switches and turned on the lights.

Kara was suddenly stilled by what she saw in front of her.

It was a framed picture of James Olsen, the man who had accompanied her into the arena, but hadn’t returned from it alive.

Kara’s eyes slowly wandered around, as she realized how James’s wasn’t the only photo on the wall. In fact, the far wall was lined with pictures of people. All young, almost her age, or younger. Kara scrunched her eyebrows. She tried to think of a reason for the place, but failed.

Almost as if on cue, Henry began. “A year after I won, I decided to build this place. It was supposed to be a place where victors could talk about the horrible experiences of the arena. A safe place. I thought if we could share how we felt, that we could all heal from it.” He stopped for a moment before he began again. "I had started mentoring that very year. There wasn’t really a choice, I was the only victor 12 had.” He paused, as though finding it difficult to utter the next few words. Finally he continued. Pointing to two frames on the top left of the corner, he said, “My first tributes, Ashe and Anya. When they… After their Games, I kept their pictures framed. So I would never forget. They deserved to be remembered.” Pausing again, he took a minute to regain his composure. “After that… for years, I just kept telling myself that I would never let it happen again… And the photos just kept increasing.”

He fell silent. Kara observed him with sympathetic eyes. She could understand what he was doing. She realized that he was keeping pictures of all the tributes that he had been unable to save. That he had failed. It was his guilt, his way of dealing with the horrors of the Games. To go in the arena was already bad enough. But to watch tributes that were under your mentorship, die on screen, while you sat outside, helpless. In that moment, Kara felt extremely sorry for the man in front of her.

“For years, I had just given up,” he spoke up. “But now… Now I’m not the only victor in 12.” Looking at Kara, he said, “Now we can try to talk about it. Let it out. Now, we have hope to get better”

Kara suddenly understood. Henry wanted Kara to open up about her experience in the arena. He wanted her to let out the very thing that she had locked away deep inside her. She suddenly panicked. A voice in her mind told her to quickly refuse. She couldn’t talk about it. She couldn’t let it out.

“Henry, I-” Kara began. She was about to tell him when her eyes suddenly spotted the wall on the other side. She noticed how the wall, adjacent to the memorial one, too had pictures. But the pictures here were few. She could count them on her hands. What caused her to freeze, however, were the three pictures of faces she recognized.

They were framed photos of the Julia Freeman, Grace Parker, and

“Rue-” Kara said to no one. 

Henry followed her line of sight. “They say the best way to deal with guilt is to face it,” he explained.

Kara required no further explanation, for she understood exactly what this wall represented.

It consisted of pictures of those they had killed. Those she had killed.

For the longest time, she stared into Rue’s big brown eyes. She looked happy in this picture, just like she did in almost every picture that she had come across of the girl. That was her thing. To be happy even in the face of distress.

Kara suddenly pulled herself away. She couldn’t keep looking, for reasons she didn’t want to admit to herself. Looking directly at Henry, she began, “I appreciate your help, but I- can’t.” Turning away from the walls, she sternly said, “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“But Kara-” her mentor began, but she interrupted him.

“Look, Henry just- I appreciate your concern, I really do, but I- The victor you’re looking for, one that you could talk to and open up about the arena with, it’s just not me. I’m sorry, I just- I don’t want it.” Without giving him a chance to reply, Kara spoke hurriedly, “I just wanted to meet about the next interview.” Walking hurriedly towards the door, she said, “We need to start prep from tomorrow. I’ll see you then,” she bid farewell, a little abruptly, before quickly walking away.

She needed to walk a little farther before the tears that had threatened to spill from her eyes could finally clear away. No. She couldn’t fall weak now. She had a job to do, a rebellion to stop. She couldn’t just let it all out. Because if she did, she was worried it would never stop. She couldn’t let that happen, Not when the people she cared about were in danger.

With that, she made her way towards the fence. She knew he would be there, (she had been observing from a distance for the past month). But today, she would meet him. Today, she would do the one thing she had been working up her courage to do for the past month. It was not at all easy. Finding Mon El had been like finding a piece of home. But now,

Now she was about to bid farewell to that piece of home forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Points to consider:  
> 1\. The concept of Harvest festival is so twisted and unfair! I mean people at the Districts are already starving. But just to celebrate, they're forced to have a feast. Even those whose tributes died. They're just expected to celebrate with what little food they have, just because the Capitol wants them to!!!  
> 2\. Eve truly is a great friend. She made Kara momentarily forget about the horrors of Snow's talk and simply feel normal. Special mention: Eve convincing Effie that mops for shoes was actually a fashion statement!! (I laughed so hard when I wrote that, because as it turns out, such shoes have actually been presented in a show somewhere!!!)  
> 3\. Mon El is given flexible working hours so he could be free for stuff that the Capitol wants him to do!! So yeah, FreEDoM INDEED!  
> 4\. Group therapy for Kara Zorel because the woman NEEDS AND DESERVES THIS! I think this is something that every Supergirl fan has wanted for her, because that girl has been through hell nearly every season!! (Sometimes even every episode!)  
> 5\. 'bid farewell to that piece of home forever'..... Yikes!
> 
> Thank You for Reading!  
> Until Next Time!


	7. Expert At Goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "a normal that doesn’t have us in it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all know where the title was inspired from... (😭)

A storm was approaching.

Mon El wasn’t sure how, but he could somehow always tell that a storm was to come, hours before its arrival. He wasn’t sure if it was the electricity in the sky that he sensed, that was an indication. Or maybe it was because of the nearly imperceivable sounds of the forests that he could hear, that always preceded a storm. Either way, the reason, he understood, was related to his powers. It was because of his super-human abilities that he could sense things like these without even wanting to. 

It was why, even now, as he sat by the lake that marked the terminal point of the falls, in the forest, he could sense the subtle change in the atmosphere. He realized how much he had come to relying on his powers recently. He had had trouble reigning control over his powers for as long as he had been on Terra. But ever since he had returned from the arena, the situation had worsened. It was why he had started visiting the forest for a few hours everyday. He needed a place to stay away from everything. To calm down the raging thoughts in his mind which in turn caused him to lose control over his powers as well. He came here to regain his focus, an ability that had blurred away ever since he had returned from the Games. He came here to not think.

The snap of a twig behind him caused him to open his eyes. He remained still for a second, continuing to stare at the vast forest in front of him, before relaxing a little and calming down to his initial state. The sound alone hadn’t calmed him. It was that, coupled with the rhythmic heartbeat that he had grown so familiar with in the past few months that had done the trick.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.” he spoke without turning back to look at Kara. When she responded with nothing but silence, he continued. “For the first couple of days,” he said as he slowly got up and turned to face her, “I thought you couldn’t make it. That maybe you were busy, or couldn’t leave the district without being seen.” He paused for a moment, noticing in the back of his mind how Kara appeared a little distracted, somewhat preoccupied. “Then of course I realized that you were coming here, just staying away from me. Keeping a distance for some reason.”

He paused, waiting for her to respond. Mon El had indeed noticed Kara's absence ever since he had returned from his tour. He had wanted to meet her after their rushed exit from the ballroom at President Snow's mansion and so had come to the falls the very next day of his arrival in his home district. A week had gone by as he had waited for her to show up. Another week later, he had begun to worry. However, just as concern had flooded his mind, he had heard a rustling in the distance. Instinctively, he had tuned his enhanced hearing to the sound, and had come across a rhythmic heartbeat; one that he had heard in the arena. That was when he had realized that she had been nearby. But she was hiding. The notion had caused him to knit his brows in confusion. Instead of calling out to her though, he had waited for her. But she hadn’t appeared for the longest time, until finally when Mon El had been forced to leave. The same had happened the next day as well. For two weeks the charade had continued, until now, when Mon El had finally decided to confront her about it, only for her to show up herself.

“You’re right.” Kara began. “I have been keeping a distance for the past few days. And I would like to apologize for that.”

Her words indicated nothing out of the ordinary, but her tone spoke otherwise. Mon El recognized a certain panic in her voice which caused his concern to grow tenfold. Something was wrong, he could tell. He had initially thought that there had been a surveillance problem in the area around the falls. Perhaps Kara had spotted a camera or a similar device in the area and had been hiding from that. But after quickly scanning the surroundings, he had dropped the notion. Now, he was worried.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, concern clear in his eyes.

That was when he noticed a most peculiar look cross Kara’s face. He noticed something in her eyes. Something that he had only seen in the eyes of a Career before. It was like an involuntary flash of emotions. A sudden wave that appeared in the eyes before it vanished just as quickly as it came. He had learned about it in 2’s academy. Wells too had taught him about it. It was an indication. A tell when a person was hiding his or her emotions. He was used to seeing ‘the shift,’ he referred to it, in the eyes of people who trained at the academy. He had even looked for it during his time with the Careers in the arena. But he had neither seen, nor expected to see the shift in the eyes of the victor from District 12.

Something was definitely wrong.

It was then that Mon El finally took note of certain things that seemed odd when considering the girl who was standing in front of him. For one, she was fidgeting. In all the time that he had spent with the Kryptonian, he had never seen her fidgety. She had always carried herself with a certain confidence that he had attributed to her personality itself. She was honest and kind to a fault. It was a factor that gave her a dignified aura. One look at her, and anyone could tell that she wasn’t the kind of being that would let go of her principles. She wouldn’t bend, break or stand down for anything. Mon El knew this, because he had seen her go through some extremely tough times. Even then she had an unlimited reserve of hope and compassion within her. That was what characterized her: The paragon of Hope.

But now, something was different. Mon El couldn’t pin-point exactly what, but he could see the shift of emotions in her eyes. He could see that the Kryptonian in front of him appeared dejected. She was determined, but discouraged. Purposeful but wavering. 

For a moment, a heavy silence settled around them. Neither of the aliens spoke for the longest time, as he appeared concerned, while she appeared as though she was having a tough time articulating her thoughts.

Finally, Mon El observed as Kara drew in a deep breath before she began. “No,” she said. “Everything’s not okay... There’s something I have to tell you.”

She paused again, as Mon El remained quiet, listening with a bated breath. 

“I think we need to stop meeting here like this.”

The words, though spoken in a clear, calm manner, managed to confuse Mon El even further. He knitted his brows while his lips curved into a confused smile. “What are you talking about?” He waited for her to elaborate.

But Kara didn’t smile back. If anything, the peculiar look on her face only worsened. She looked down at the ground, as though trying to come up with something to say. When she finally looked up at him, she began in a calm, aloof tone. “We can’t keep coming here like this. I think it’s about time that we just… stay away.”

The smile slowly faded from his face. He tried, but still couldn’t quite understand what she was saying. “What do you mean, stay away?” he asked, incredulously.

“I mean leave and never come back,” Kara suddenly responded. “We can’t keep meeting here like this, it’s far too dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” Mon El interrupted. “Danger from what?” It was then that she gave him a knowing look. Mon El instantly understood. “If you’re worried about the Capitol then you know how my powers work. I can sense electronics if I need to.”

“Yeah, and using your powers worked wonderfully in the arena, didn’t it?” Kara challenged in a bitter tone.

Mon El fell quiet at this. He was suddenly reminded of the harsh repercussions that using his powers in the arena had had. A shudder ran through him as he realized just how close his family had gotten to being caught. His alien identity had already risked his family’s existence so many times, but because of his use of his powers in the arena, he had directly pushed his family into dangers so grave that he wouldn’t even have found out about the consequences until after the Games were over, until too late. He had led Seneca Crane, the then head-gamemaker to his home, his family’s safeplace. If it weren’t for their quick thinking, who knows how much damage he may have caused. Mon El didn’t even want to think about what would have happened had Winn not intervened, or had Crane found even the slightest of flaws in their story.

Taking note of how the statement had affected him, Kara continued in a softer tone. “Look, we did what we had to to survive in the arena.” Looking at him directly in the eyes, she said, “We kept each other alive. But Mon El, we’re not there anymore. Things are different out here. We can’t just do whatever we want without expecting consequences.” Pausing to emphasize the next words, she said, “Especially us,” referring to their alien origins. “We’re too different. We can’t be allies, friends,... especially when the world expects us to be enemies.”

“What are you talking about? Are you even listening to yourself?” he exclaimed. 

“I am, okay? I’ve thought about this for the past month,” she exclaimed in a slightly raised volume. “We can’t keep doing this. Ever since we got back from the arena, we have tried our level best to convince people that there’s nothing but enmity between us. But I can’t go on acting for the cameras and just ignoring all that in real life.”

“Hold on a second, are you actually suggesting that we can’t be friends anymore?” The statement was met with silence, as Mon El himself considered the exact repercussions of the statements. “Kara you can’t actually be considering this.”

“But I am, Mon El!” Kara exclaimed. “You know I’m not that good a liar. I cannot keep doing this. I can’t keep telling people one thing and then rendering all of it false the very next second.”

Mon El was dumbstruck by the explanation. He tried to find words to respond to the argument, but found that his mind simply couldn’t comply, for all it could think of at the moment, was how nonsensical it all sounded. “Something’s wrong,” he finally said after a stretched pause. “Something’s happened. Something you’re not telling me.” He challenged her with his eyes. “What is it? Look, whatever it is we can just work it out together, okay? But please, don’t do this. Believe me, you don’t have to face this alone.” He observed as Kara turned to look away from him, in frustration. She was deliberately not answering. He realized that she did not want to answer. So he began thinking on his own. “Everything seemed fine until we reached the Capitol,” he said, more to himself than her. “Was it something that happened after the dance?”

That caused Kara to suddenly turn and face him. “You’re not listening to me!” she exclaimed, frustratedly. “Why can’t you just listen to what I’m saying. I don’t think that we should be friends, Mon El,” she said, stressing on every word. “You’re a Career from 2,” she said following a pause, her voice lowered to a somewhat normal yet irritated volume. “I’m a fluke from 12. We were never supposed to be friends. We were never even supposed to make it out of the arena alive, together.” Mon El didn’t miss the slight tremble in her voice as she said that statement. She took a deep breath to compose herself somewhat, before continuing, “But we did. We got out. We got so lucky, for reasons that we’re not even aware of. I don’t wanna stretch that luck anymore.” She looked at him with what he recognized as pleading eyes.

“This can’t be happening right now,” Mon El said, shaking his head incredulously. He racked his mind for an explanation. Something, anything that would explain why Kara was so hell-bent on severing all ties with him, all of a sudden, but could come up with nothing. 

“Look, Mon El, I know this is dif-” she stopped, abruptly, as though stopping herself from saying the wrong thing. Pausing, considering her words, she said, “The arena was horrible. It was one of the worst things we’ve gone through. And now,- now that we’re out, we do what every victor does. We forget. We forget everything. The arena,... everything that happened before, we just leave it all behind.”

Mon El stared incredulously as he realized what she was asking him to do. He took into consideration the repercussions of her words. To forget the horrors of the arena was one thing. But to forget everything? That included the time that they had spent together. How could he forget the moment he had found out that he wasn’t alone on Earth? How he felt, when he realized that Kara too was not unlike him, an alien. How was he supposed to forget the fear, the desperation that he had felt upon even stumbling across even the idea that she was in danger in the arena? How could he let go of the one thing that had kept him steady throughout the Games? The one person who had been by his side when he had killed for the very first time. Finding Kara, getting to know her, had been like recovering a piece of home. How was he supposed to let go of home, again?

“I don’t wanna forget,” was all Mon El could manage to say, as he spoke in a barely audible whisper. Taking in a deep breath, he regained some of his composure and began in a somewhat angry, stubborn tone. “One thing you need to understand is that no matter what district or world or universe I’m living in, I will never forget you. I don’t ever wanna go back to a normal that doesn’t have us in it. I don’t know what’s happening right now. All I can tell for sure is that you’re not making a whole lot of sense. So how about you come back tomorrow when you’re willing to share what’s really going on.” With that he turned and began walking away towards the direction of home. He had taken two steps when she called out from behind.

“This isn’t about us,” she said, but he kept on walking.

“This is about Maya.”

The mention of the name caused him to stop dead on his tracks. He turned slowly and stared at her.

“This is about your mom, and my parents, and Eve, and Winn, and all those people that have protected us in some way or another from the moment we landed here. This is about every innocent life that we can’t risk. About all the innocent people in the Districts that had nothing to do with what happened in the arena. Our alliance in the Games meant nothing more than high ratings. But out here,... We cannot let innocent people die at our cost, Mon El. We cannot let what happened to our planets happen here as well. We can’t abandon our families, the people we swore to protect, right when they need us most. They have risked their everything to ensure that we got to live on this harsh planet. We can’t be selfish now. We cannot let anything come in the way of protecting them, we owe them this much. We need to do our duty to the people we love.”

Silence stretched on, once she was done. Mon El struggled to say something, anything in rebuttal, but realized that he couldn’t. Closing his eyes, he exhaled slowly, trying to contain the wave of emotions he felt. 

“We know what it’s like to lose our worlds,” Kara continued. “To watch helplessly as our people died in front of us. Don’t you ever feel guilty about it?”

He looked at her directly in the eyes, not believing that she had needed to ask this. “Of course, I do,” he answered with gritted teeth.

“Then let go, Mon El,” Kara finally drove her point home. “We were kids when we watched our planets crumble before us. But now- Now we have a chance to rebuild. We finally have a chance to save our people.”

He remained silent for a few minutes, taking into consideration each and every word that had been thrown at him. Mentions of Maya and his family stuck to his mind as he considered whether what Kara had just said actually made sense. He knew they were supposed to be enemies to all of Panem. That was the only way they could survive. But in reality, he had simply thought that things could be different. They had kept their identities secret, hadn’t they? They could surely keep their friendship from the rest of the world as well.

At least that was what Mon El had thought. Now, as he considered the consequences, he realized that his confidence was beginning to waiver. What if Kara was right? What if they were actually risking the lives of people that were dearest to them; people they cared about so much. Their alliance in the arena had caused so much trouble already. What if a real connection in the real world was ten times worse?

“No!”

He wasn’t sure if he had said it out loud, but he had definitely heard a voice in his head all but screaming a no at him. He couldn’t let this go. He couldn’t let her go. She was a piece of his home. He couldn’t lose his home all over again. Lost in thought, it was Kara’s abrupt words that brought him out of his reverie.

“You have to!” it was Kara’s turn to sound angry. Her tone reflected her frustration. “You were right, back in the arena. No one would’ve thought that a boy from 2 and a girl from 12 could work together. It’s just not supposed to happen.”

“Kara, I-”

“You’re a Career, Mon El!” she exclaimed, almost losing control over her own voice. “Act like one.”

There was nothing to say. Nothing he could possibly say anymore. Mon El stared at Kara, in shock. He wanted to pretend not having heard what she had just said. He wanted to turn a deaf ear to what she had asked him to do. But he couldn’t. Ever since the tour, Mon El had come to the forest, had wanted to meet Kara because it was the one place where he could just be himself. It was a place where he didn’t need to think like a Career, like a survivor. But now, he had lost this place as well. Now, he could no longer just be himself. It was far too dangerous, he realized to not think like a survivor anymore. Kara had made him realize that. She had made him realize that he needed to be a Career now. Always, for the rest of his life.

The clouds had begun forming now, creating a vast sheet of grey above the forest. Winds were slowly picking up pace. Soon, they would build up into strong currents. The storm was nearing.

Taking note of the change in the surroundings, Kara finally spoke up. “We have to go.” The words were quiet, almost too quiet to hear over the rush of the winds that were now causing the tall trees around them to sway gently. “It’s not safe to stay here anymore,” she said, as she turned to walk away but remained in spot, her tone almost apologetic, her voice controlled. “Even more dangerous to come back.”

Mon El dejectedly understood exactly what she was trying to convey. ‘To never come back here,’ meant to never see each other again. To always maintain a distance. From now on, Kara Zorel and Mon El Roqford were only enemies who had miraculously survived together. Anything else was merely a figment of imagination.

Kara wanted to apologize for it all. She could see how broken the man in front of her appeared. She wanted to take it all back. But she couldn’t. She was determined. She strangled the voice in her mind that told her to say sorry. Instead, she ended up saying something that she would regret for an incredibly long time to come, possibly forever.

“Bailat.”

* * *

Kara was walking as rapidly as she could. The usually pleasant appearing forest had quickly transitioned into a frightening version of itself, as thick grey clouds had taken over the skies, bringing an eerie darkness into existence. Tall trees cast long shadows on the ground taking away what little light that had managed to seep through the rain-filled clouds, rendering the surrounding area completely dark. Strong winds were blowing through the narrow forest corridors now, producing an eerie whistle in their wake. It was chilling in combination to the creepy silence that existed now as animals quickly began fleeing to their safe shelters.

But Kara did not let any of that stop her. She kept walking in the direction of her district. In hindsight, she could have made use of her super-speed to reach the fence within seconds. But something prevented her from doing so. Something was pulling her back. In a distant part of her mind, she knew what was happening. She understood that a part of her simply wanted to run back to where she had left Mon El alone and embrace him as tightly as she could. It wanted her to take back every single word she had said to him. It wanted to withdraw the pain she had caused him. 

But she fought through. Kara scolded herself. She was determined, resolute on staying firm on what she had done. It was why even though the voice in her head screamed, begged for her to reconsider her decision, she did not let it affect her. The district fence was visible now. 

She was only a few minutes from the district border when she had felt the first raindrop on her shoulder. Instantly, almost out of nowhere, the rainfall had become heavier. She was finally at the fence. Checking if the fence was live had become a habit now. She did so without even realizing it. When she heard no buzz coming from the wired barrier, she quickly ducked under one of the many weak spots that the district boundary had. Once inside, she kept on walking.

Drops were now falling rapidly, taking everyone by surprise. She had picked up speed now, so had the rain. She realized that the part of her, the one telling her to go back, was quieter now. She instantly understood why. Because she knew Mon El wouldn’t be there anymore. It was therefore no use returning back to the falls. Instantly, she felt the consequences of her actions weighing down on her. But she ignored it. She kept on marching. Victor’s Village was in sight now. Her house was in sight. Her vision was beginning to go blurry. She realized the tears that she had been holding back all day were threatening to spill now. ‘Not yet,’ she told herself. ‘Not now.’

When she finally reached her house, she pushed open the door that was left unlocked for her. Her super-hearing picked up on the silence of the house. The emptiness of her home. She quickly realized why that was. Her parents were working night shifts today. 

Keeping her pace steady, she walked across the large corridor. She passed the kitchen where food was kept with a note most likely from Alura, telling her to eat on time. But she didn't stop at the kitchen and headed up the stairs. A part of her noticed that her body was shuddering now. She couldn’t control the tears any longer. She reached her room and closed the door shut behind her.

That was when the tears came. Kara leaned by the closed door for support, as her body trembled. She brought a shaky hand to her mouth and sobbed quietly. She couldn’t believe what she had done. She didn’t want any of it. But she knew it was what needed to happen. It was the only way. 

She had left her world all over again. And it hurt just as much as the last time.

* * *

Mon El was now irritated by the tremor in his hand. It was somehow more violent, more aggressive now. He had tried shaking it off but hadn’t been able to stop the agitation. His mind was filled with too many things, causing his frustration to only grow. He wanted to punch a wall, let off some steam. But he knew that he couldn’t. Because when humans punched walls, they mostly caused a hole in the wall. His punch could collapse the house. That was why he had resorted to pacing. 

A knock on the door distracted him. It was Maya.

“You okay?” she asked, taking into consideration his drenched state and how miserable he looked. 

“The storm caught me by surprise,” he replied, managing a weak smile.

It was enough to convince Maya (if it wasn’t she didn’t say anything). “Mom says dinner’s in fifteen minutes,” she said. He acknowledged with a nod. As soon as she left, the smile on his face was wiped away. His mind was battling a turmoil far too strong. As he looked out his window through tear-stained eyes, he realized,

He was in the eye of the storm now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an extremely difficult chapter to write on two accounts:-  
> 1\. As you may have noticed, there's not a lot happening. I wanted to learn how to write a chapter that contains only one event. So I really hope this doesn't seem long/repetitive while reading. Do let me know how you like it!  
> 2\. The Karamel Angst!!! As part of the research that I had to do for this chapter, I had to revisit some of the most heartbreaking Karamel moments and I Hated It! I miss our outer space stray puppies so much!!
> 
> Aside from this, another point worth mentioning is the fact that Kara was deliberately trying to be hurtful towards Mon El. It was why she mentioned him using his powers in the arena and almost getting caught, being a Career, and especially the Bailat. She was trying to make it easier for him to let go of their friendship and I just think that I love and hate Kara for being so damn selfless!
> 
> So, yeah... That's that...!  
> Thank You for Reading!  
> Until Next Time!
> 
> P.S.: I miss Karamel!


	8. Shield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Victors were exempted from work."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ice Cream!!!

Kara hated this.

It had been five hours twenty-nine minutes and seventeen seconds exactly since Effie had entered through the front doors of her house and had brought with her a group of some of the most pretentious, obnoxious people Kara had ever had the misfortune of meeting. The group consisted of four interior designers, that were in-charge of the background for Kara’s interviews and three camera-crew, in-charge of setting up cameras and recording devices throughout the living room where her interviews usually took place. Left to her, Kara would have shooed this group away right at the train station itself. Unfortunately, it couldn’t be done. Instead of banishing them from the district itself, Kara was expected to welcome them into her home and remain courteous throughout their stay at 12. Because no matter how much she hated the fact, they were here for her. They were here to ensure that Kara Zorel, the victor of the 74th Annual Hunger Games made a good enough impression on the people of Panem.

And given the gravity of the situation that she was in, Kara knew she could use all the help she could get.

An involuntary chill ran down her spine as the cold voice of President Snow came to mind.  _ ‘Convince me,’ _ he had said, demanded from her. And so that was what she had been working towards ever since she had returned from her victory tour. She had realized how she had missed out on her opportunity to convince the people in the Districts to let go of the idea of defiance whilst she had visited all the districts during her tour. But she also knew that the tour was simply the beginning of all the festivities. She was a victor now. That meant that throughout the year, right until the announcement for the next Games, she was to make as many TV appearances as possible. Kara was ‘trending’ as Effie had put it. She was therefore expected to enjoy her time in the spotlight throughout the year, until the next victor snatched it away from her (Effie’s words, not hers). 

To Kara, every TV spot, every broadcast, every interview was one thing and one thing alone. It was a chance to calm the people of the Districts. An opportunity to make them realize just how much damage their actions could entail. To prove to them that she did not support the riots, the rebellion in any way. 

So far, Kara had done everything right. She had ensured that each and every public appearance of hers had the proper, intended impact on the audience. She had, through her answers and commentaries, conveyed her thoughts to the people loud and clear. She was a supporter of the Games, of the Capitol itself. The victor of the 74th Annual Hunger Games would never even dream of challenging their authority. She was thankful to them. Immensely grateful to their generosity. There had been times when Kara had suppressed the urge to cringe at her own responses during interviews, owing to just how fake they had seemed. But Kara had done it nonetheless, making it seem as real, as convincing as possible. She knew that while the saccharine words were far too effective on the citizens of the Capitol, they would seem all but insincere to the people of the Districts. That was why she had to tread carefully. She had to convince the people of her sincerity.

Above all, she had to ensure that people were convinced beyond doubt that Kara Zorel was not a symbol of hope for the rebellion. She did not support the people of the District coming together and rising against the Capitol. She did not support any form of unity between the Districts, apart from the one whose rules were predefined by the Capitol. People of the Districts were supposed to simply coexist. Nothing more. The only interaction they could have with other districts was that which would ensure the smooth functioning of Panem, which according to the Capitol, depended solely on the comfort of the people of the Capitol. The rulers of Panem, as Kara saw it, were far too paranoid in this matter. They considered something as trivial as holding hands as an act of unity. Unity brought in its wake a risk of questioning authority and that in turn could lead to an uprising. 

As long as there was even a risk of an uprising, no one was safe.

That was why Kara was so determined. It was why, even though she hated every moment of it, she was so hell-bent on showcasing her support for the Capitol. The safety of the people closest to her, as well as countless other, innocent beings of this planet was hanging in the balance. As long as her words, no matter how dishonest and insincere they were, kept the people of this planet safe, she was willing to continue this charade. Her actions, her decisions in the arena had brought about this situation. She could not let the people around her suffer because of it. She had to do this. And as long as she could keep people safe, she didn’t mind any of it.

At least that was what she had been repeating to herself ever since the horrid day of the storm.

Kara had cried for hours after she had returned from the forest that day. After she had bid farewell to the one good thing that she had come across because of the Games. She had told Mon El that she could never see him again, had told him to never see her again, and in the process, had broken both their hearts. Ever since she had turned her back on him and walked away, leaving him in the forest, alone, she had sported an ache in her heart that simply would not go away no matter how hard she tried. After a while however, she had simply grown used to it. She had accepted her decision. Like she had done so many times before, throughout her time on Terra, she had strangled the voices in her head that begged her to reconsider, and had forced herself to do what needed to be done. The following morning, when the tears had finally run out and Kara had given in to exhaustion, the final thought she had had was of him. She had told herself that Mon El was now nothing more than a distant memory. A dream she had seen. 

That had been about a month and a half ago. 

Now, as she recalled everything, no tears escaped her eyes. A part of her understood why that was. She was around people now. There were cameras set-up in the living room, all pointing at her. Now, even the smallest mistake could tip everything on the side of chaos and death. She had to stay vigilant now. Which was why she was maintaining a well-practiced facade. It was a mask that did not let her true emotions show. It didn’t reveal how much she missed him, or how horrible she felt when supporting the unfair system set in place by the Capitol.

“What is this?!” A man from the interior-design team exclaimed in an utterly dramatic way. He proceeded to pick up the potted plant with one hand, with some difficulty, since his other arm was in a cast. “What is this plant doing here?!” he said, ensuring to keep it at an arm’s length, as though it were a vile creature. He then walked over to the other side of the room and tossed it in the garbage pile that contained numerous other objects that did not match with the overall decor of the living room, and were therefore kept behind the cameras, away from view. The plant, it seemed, ‘did not match the palette of the room.’ Kara gritted her teeth. The plant had been Alura’s idea when Kara, along with her family, had moved into the mansion. Getting used to the house had been quite a struggle for the three of them. Her Earth-mother had therefore peppered the huge mansion with such seemingly trivial objects from their previous home. It had given the Victor’s Village house a little sense of home. It had made the mansion seem a little less foreign and a little more familiar. But now, all familiarity was gone again, leaving the living room exactly the way it had been when they had first moved in. This was foreign land again. Kara did not recognize this place.

In that moment, Kara was grateful for her figurative mask. No one could see how she was currently imagining tossing the man from the design team directly into the sun.

“I thought the plant was a nice addition. Gave this place some life.”

Kara turned towards the source of the voice. It was her mentor who was defending the object. Henry had been seated in a corner of the room, quietly rehearsing the script he had been given for his segment. Their broadcast for today was titled, ‘Greetings from District 12.’ It was essentially a glimpse in the life of current victor Kara Zorel and her mentor and how they had been utilizing their time ever since their return from the arena. Victors were exempted from work. They could choose to continue, but people seldom did, owing to the poor work conditions in the District labs or factories. In addition, District 12 only had two victors. It was therefore decided that both of them would not work, for the world needed to see how talented the victors from 12 were. Instead, it became necessary for both of them to have other hobbies that they could showcase on a segment such as this one.

Henry had been in the spotlight on a similar segment back when he had won his Games. At the time, his hobby had been showcased to be botany. Henry was a botanist himself. Before his reaping, he had been, like everyone in his family, a worker in the Cytology Department. After returning from the Games, he had been allowed to take it up as a hobby, experimenting on the effects of microorganisms on plant life, specializing in herbology, the study of medicinal uses of plant life. That was all Henry was known for, aside from a mentor. His entire life had been summed up into these two roles. Because that was all people cared about. That was all they wished to know. When Henry’s family, that had been working in the same field alongside him, had died in an accidental lab explosion, people didn’t care for them. They didn’t care that Henry had been far too devastated to continue his work. They simply wanted updates on his talent, his hobby. And so, they forced him to continue.

Perks of being a victor.

Facing her mentor, Kara realized how things were still quite uneasy between the two of them. Kara hadn’t spoken to him ever since she had turned down his offer to talk about the horrors of the arena. Ever since she had rudely walked away from his sincere appeal to help her. They had met countless times after that, regularly practicing for her interviews, but they hadn’t talked much about the room of fallen tributes or Kara’s reaction to the pictures on the walls. Now, as she looked at him, her hand involuntarily touched the object that was kept securely in her pocket. It was a small key. The same key that she had found on her doorstep later, the day after the storm, when she had finally finished crying. It had been accompanied with a note: ‘ _ In case you change your mind. The place will be there for you whenever you need it. _ ’

Kara hadn’t been near the building for the past month and a half, consciously avoiding going there or thinking about it. But somehow, she had kept the key with her. She didn’t know why, but she had felt the need to keep it with her at all times. If she would ever use it, she didn’t know. However, for the time being, she chose to not think about the matter any further.

“See, Henry,” the man who had tossed the plant aside spoke up, “That’s why no one cares about your opinions.” He continued with a saccharine smile, “They’re always wrong. I understand the bond you have with plants, but please. Why don’t you carry on with your silly little experiments and leave the important stuff to the professionals?”

The reply earned him a snicker from the rest of the design team. Kara’s mask began to crack a little, as she, with great difficulty, suppressed the urge to punch this man in the face. She looked over to Henry, urging him with her eyes to say something, to not take the designer’s crap. But to her surprise, he too smiled and went back to rehearsing his lines. As though nothing had happened. She had to learn to do that. Perhaps Henry had been a victor long enough to know that responding to such trivial words, no matter how nonsensical they were, was simply not worth it. Perhaps Kara needed to let go of things such as this.

A moment passed. Her mind refused to comply and quickly proceeded to imagine flying the design team straight to the moon and abandoning them there.

“Good one bro!” a man walked up to the man and raised his hand for a high-five. He stopped however, as the man accidentally tried to raise the arm in the cast to return the greeting and winced in pain. “Man, how did you get that cast again?”

“I broke my arm at the President's mansion party. My arm got stuck in the revolving doors and some idiot pushed the door open.”

That was when Kara suddenly realized. The man had seemed familiar. The way he dressed, the way he walked around, Kara had seen it somewhere before. But most importantly, she had recognized his voice. Although his face was quite unfamiliar to her, she knew where she had heard the voice before.

‘ _ Don’t grab women, sweetheart. _ ’

Her own voice rang in her mind, as she recalled the incident in the ballroom at the President’s mansion. This man had very rudely asked her for a dance, grabbing her elbow and slurring his words. His face was covered, for he was, not unlike everyone present in the ballroom, wearing a masquerade mask. She too was wearing one. It was why he hadn’t recognized her now. It was good that he hadn’t.

Because Kara had twisted his hand using some of her super-strength and had most probably broken his arm.

Kara suppressed a wide smile as she realized how the man was lying to his associates. His hand had never been stuck in a revolving door. It had been twisted and broken by some girl on the dance floor! Of the entire time that the team had been in her house, for the first time Kara felt absolutely elated. Remembering the incident, as it turned out, was much more satisfying than imagining tossing any of the designers out in space. The man had deserved to have his arm broken. Kara was just glad that she had gotten the chance to do it. She remembered how satisfying it had felt when he had stared at her, incredulously, and quickly hurried away from the dance floor itself. How her high spirits had only been lifted after the man had scurried away, because right after, she had danced with a much better man.

“Are you ready sweetie?”

Effie’s voice pulled Kara away from thoughts about Mon El. Giving Effie a curt nod, she mentally scolded herself and demanded herself to focus on the work at hand. Her interview was to begin. She couldn’t get distracted by dreary thoughts.

She was seated on the main couch in the living room, facing a large yet sleek camera that was placed on a stand by the large windows behind it, that provided all the natural light that they needed for the shot. Facing the camera, she readied herself. The man standing just behind the camera cued her off. Rehearsed words and fake cordiality in 3… 2… 1…

“Greetings citizens of Panem,” Kara began in a slightly exaggerated, far too enthusiastic tone. “And welcome to District 12. My name is Kara Zorel and I’m the victor of the 74th Annual Hunger Games.”

* * *

“Patch it to the display room,” a woman from the camera crew spoke into her mouthpiece. “And… we’re clear.”

As soon as the words were uttered, the wide smile on Kara’s face dropped entirely, while she sighed in relief. She registered pain on her face, owing to the huge grin that had been on her face throughout her interview. She closed her eyes and massaged her face. Fortunately the segment had been a relatively short one. Now, all that was left was a short presentation that displayed and showcased the results of her victor talent. Kara had no role here, for a room had already been set-up, by the crew of designers, with numerous paintings that Kara had created in the past month.

Kara had opted for painting to be her victor hobby. It had been a suggestion by Effie and had initially been downright rejected by Kara. However, when the presenter had insisted and given her a paint kit to begin with, Kara had begrudgingly agreed and began painting.

Once she had begun, Kara had found it difficult to stop. Painting, as it turned out, came naturally to her. Every colour, every stroke of the brush managed to calm her down. Her heightened senses that were almost always distracting, somehow came in control whenever she painted. It was a hobby of hers that she didn’t even know she had. One that had managed to bring her focus down to one thing, successfully calming her down whenever she woke up from a nightmare, or whenever she felt the beginning of a panic attack sneaking up on her.

The time she usually spent in the woods, she now spent at home, painting, creating one masterpiece after another. It proved to be a good distraction from the fear that she felt almost constantly now. It was when she allowed herself some time off. When her mind would go free, not worrying about the consequences of her actions. Instead, she remembered the numerous landscapes of her home planet, the beautiful views on Krypton that her eyes had seen, that her mind remembered. To everyone who saw the paintings, it seemed to be her imagination that was portrayed on the canvas. Only Kara knew that it was a memory instead.

Kara observed as the holo in the living room displayed the recording of a woman who was in the display room, telling all the viewers about Kara’s works of art. The entire segment had been shot already. It was simply being aired now, live, to all of Panem. The presentation consisted of numerous paintings, along with a brief description of each. Kara had created quite a few pieces in the past month, but not all of them had been displayed. Some of the art did not match ‘the aesthetic of the room,’ she had been told. 

One after another, most of the paintings were explained, as the woman talked extensively about the technique, the colour palette and all other things that were of no interest to the viewers of Panem. Perhaps the citizens of the Capitol appreciated the details, but as far as people of the Districts were considered, Kara realized, ‘we simply don’t care.’

Some of the paintings in the back were skipped, placed there only for aesthetic purposes. As the camera glided across the room, Kara realized that nearly every painting of hers consisted of the forest. She noticed how many of them consisted of the tall green trees that were her companions all across the woods, or the soft green grass that she felt under her feet during her time there. There was even a painting of the majestic falls that she had loved to visit. That she wished to visit even now, but knew that she couldn’t. She remembered all the fond memories that she had of her time in the woods. How much she loved the place, for it was the one place on Terra where she didn’t need to worry about revealing her identity. The woods had been with her throughout, witnessed her true capabilities, for she had used her powers openly here and nowhere else. It was where she had been able to meet, to talk openly with the one other being who understood her completely. She was lost in thought when she suddenly caught a glimpse of something on the screen that instantly alerted her and filled her mind with panic.

“Where did you get that from?” Kara asked in a slightly increased volume to no one in particular. 

The man with a cast looked at her with knitted brows. “What, the paintings? You gave them to us, remember?” he replied in a confused tone.

“I didn’t give you that,” Kara demanded, pointing towards the painting that could be seen partially on the screen now. The painting was in the background, nearly out of focus. It was a glimpse, just for a few seconds, for the camera didn’t even stop there. But it was enough to view the painting. For anyone looking for it, at least.

It was perhaps the one painting that stood out a little, when compared with the rest of the works. For one, it wasn’t landscape. The base colour wasn’t green, like it was for a majority of the canvases. Although this too, like others, was one from memory, the memory wasn’t a private one. Instead, it was a moment that all of Panem had witnessed. A moment that Kara hated, one that she would never be able to forget.

It was a painting of Rue. Her final moments in the arena.

Bedecked in wild flowers, the young girl from 11 appeared to be sleeping peacefully in the painting. Her eyes were closed, her face without expressions. But Kara could sense the pain. She could remember with extreme clarity the blood on her jacket. The wound that she had desperately tried to cover up with flowers. In her memory, Rue had been on the ground of the arena of the 74th Annual Hunger Games; killed, fallen victim to the Games. But in the painting, she wasn’t trapped in the arena. Instead, she was free. Rather than grass, she was surrounded by dark skies, dotted with specks of white.

“ _ She was among the stars. _ ”

It was a painting Kara had spent hours staring at. It was a memory, the details of which, she knew she would never forget. It was one of her most prized paintings.

It was never meant to be displayed to anyone.

“Oh you mean the little girl?” the designer asked. “Yeah, I got that from your room. The colour scheme went wonderfully with the curtains and the feel of the room, you know?”

Kara shot daggers at the man. She was dangerously close to letting go of the control that she was currently exercising on her laser-vision. How could he be so senseless, so disrespectful towards it? “That painting was never meant to be displayed. How could you use it without my permission?” Kara seethed in anger. It was enough to make the man cower behind the camera and other equipment. 

The atmosphere changed. The team of designers tensed up. The victor that had been quiet and complying of their every request so far, was suddenly angry. It was unsettling for them, for Kara appeared ready to fight all of them.

All for that one painting.

“Kara, honey, calm down,” Effie spoke up from behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “It’s a beautiful painting, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

To this, Kara sharply turned and looked at her presenter. How could she not understand? How could no one understand the repercussions of what had happened, of what the idiotic designer had accidentally done? It was Rue’s painting. The girl, whose death had caused riots in District 11. Whose farewell had started all this. The victor from 12 had painted her final moments in the arena. It meant that she was supporting District 11, and in extension, the riots themselves. The painting made Kara appear sympathetic towards Rue. She knew, first hand, how dangerous that could be, for the last time she had shown compassion towards Rue’s family, an innocent man had been shot dead.

“You can’t display the painting,” she said to Effie, desperately. “You need to leave it out of the footage. You need to edit it out, please!”

“Kara, this is a live broadcast,” Effie tried to explain. “The footage has already aired. All of Panem has already seen it, even we saw it on the holo just now.”

‘No,’ Kara thought to herself. ‘This could not be happening.’ All of Panem, the Districts, the Capitol, everyone had seen the painting. The footage had aired already. It could not be taken back now.

“Hey, for what it’s worth,” the man with the cast who was still somewhat hiding behind the equipment, began meekly, “it was just a glimpse. I’m sure no one even noticed it in the background.”

Kara did not respond. She wanted to tell herself that it was quite possible that the painting had indeed gone unnoticed. People in the Capitol would surely be more interested in the description of the painting in front, while the people in the Districts may not have even watched the programme as closely. Perhaps there was a chance that they wouldn’t notice.

But Kara knew one man would surely take note of the painting. The one man she was scared would take note of the painting.

‘ _ Convince me _ ,’ President Snow’s voice came to mind.

* * *

Winn was now officially convinced. 

His best friend, the alien with superhuman abilities, who could probably hear if a pin dropped on a carpeted floor, was deliberately ignoring his pleas to get the hell out of this forsaken factory.

“Remind me again, why’re we here instead of, oh I don’t know Home!” Winn exclaimed over the comms. 

He was currently sitting in the control room of the piezoelectric generator for their section of the factory, keeping a watch over the numerous level indicators on the screen.

“Because, we saw a drop in charging levels and so had to check if everything was okay,” the response came from the comms. The voice belonged to Mon El, who was currently checking the actual equipment of the generator.

Each quadrant of the District 2 factory was powered by individual piezoelectric harvesters placed underground. The charging and discharging mechanism of the machinery was set up in such a way that it all happened automatically, allowing for minimal maintenance throughout the year. The floors of the factory were lined with sensors that provided the necessary vibrations to charge the sheet of piezoelectric material, which in turn produced electricity for the entire quadrant. The steps of the workers actually kept the place active.

Usually, the charging had an efficiency of about 90 percent, taking into consideration the losses. Today, the efficiency had dropped to 82 percent. No one had even noticed the drop. The factory remained unaffected, as people continued working rigorously. Unfortunately for Winn, his best friend had taken note of the drop and had therefore decided to check the equipment out for himself.

“Besides,” Mon El continued over the comms, “I told you to go home. I can sort things out over here on my own.”

“Yeah,” Winn said, sarcasm quite clear in his voice. “Like I’m gonna leave you alone over there. The place is filled with lead insulated material everywhere. It’s basically a ‘lead-mine’ if you think about it.” Mon El was extremely allergic to lead, so much so that the material could even be fatal to the alien. He remembered how when the two of them had first started working in the factory, they had each come up with different ideas to keep him as far away from the lead components as possible. They had tried their best to ensure that he didn’t need to handle any of the lead-components himself. Growing up, Winn had thought of every possible way to get his best friend exempted from work in the factories, but none of them had worked.

Now, he finally had an excuse. Now that Mon El was a victor, he didn’t need to work here at all. He was free once and for all from the noise, the lead, the everything. And yet, here he was, working way past his shift-timings, venturing into the dark, lead-filled chambers of equipment, trying to fix some trivial glitch that probably didn’t need fixing at all.

Winn didn’t understand, but he had a feeling that neither did Mon El. 

“Okay, let’s do this,” Winn said after giving out a resigned sigh. He knew whatever the reason, the alien was not going to let it up until there was nothing more to fix here. He figured the fastest way to get things done, was to help him solve the problem, get him out of the chambers and then if need be, drag him towards home. “Let’s start with the basics. Efficiency has two components: input and output. Do you see anything wrong with the power source?”

A few seconds later, Mon El responded, “No, everything looks set here.” Pausing again as though studying a component, he continued, “The circuit looks clean, the ground sensors are stable. The auxiliary’s still not activated which means we’re still drawing power from the intended source. Check if there’s a leakage, to see if we’re rerouting power from the District’s main grid.”

“Negative,” Winn replied. “The circuit’s isolated. Okay then it’s not the input that’s causing trouble here, let’s move on to the harvester itself. Any complications there?”

This time, Mon El responded after a longer pause. “Well the- the membranes seem fine but the piezo itself looks a little worn out.”

“Well, it might be due for replacement. I’ll check the last time it was replaced. Okay, do you see a multi-phased descrambler that links to the power source?”

“Yeah, but the insulation is cracked.” Mon El observed the equipment for a few seconds before realization struck him. “That’s it,” he said over the comms.

“What?” Winn enquired.

“Well the insulation’s cracked, right? So that’s causing a charge-build up near the source. The excessive current is causing ionization of the piezo. That’s why it’s frayed at the edges. The material’s disintegrating.”

“Yeah, well according to the last maintenance record, the material’s supposed to be replaced in about a month, so I guess it should be fine till then.”

“Yeah, but they’re not gonna check for the insulator, which means the same problem might occur for the next piezo as well.”

“If you’re thinking of replacing the insulator, you can forget it. I’m not gonna wait until you get the part from storage. And I won’t let you wait either,” Winn said in a determined voice.

“No. I was just thinking of rerouting some of the power from the descrambler itself. There’s an open channel that’s unused. I’ll just get it to work from there.”

Winn thought about the solution. Sure, the idea wasn’t so bad. Either way, maintenance would be there within the month. They would notice that the back-up system’s in use and so get the main channel up, replacing the insulator in the process. But something was wrong. A factor that they were missing. “Okay man, just be extremely careful handling the wires,” Winn warned him intuitively. Why did he need to be careful?

Suddenly, he glanced at the maintenance records of the piezo. He read out the material in use and instantly called over the comms. “Mon El do not go near the piezo itself. The material’s LZT. If it’s ionizing at the edges, there must be a coating of pure lead near the wires. Do not touch the wires.”

Unfortunately, the warning, as it turned out, was about half a second late, for the moment Winn finished his statement, a short cry of pain could be heard over the comms.

* * *

The bleeding did not stop all the way to his house in Victor’s Village. 

Mon El had barely touched the wire when a sharp pain had pricked his finger, causing him to draw his hand back suddenly. Examining his finger, he had taken note of the silvery powder that was now sticking to his skin, burning his index finger. He instantly recognized the material. Lead

He immediately brushed off as much of the powder from his finger as he could, until the skin no longer appeared grey. However, he could still feel the stinging, which meant that specks of lead were still embedded on the tip of his finger. He could hear Winn’s worried voice over the comms, and quickly assured him that he was alright. That was when the bleeding had begun.

It started out as a drop of blood at first. But by the time he climbed out of the chamber, listened to Winn berate him over how he had no need to go and check it out in the first place and finally reached home, dried blood had formed a patch near the tip of his finger.

Once home, he quickly rushed through the entrance corridors and went straight towards the room at the very back of the house. It was a spare work room that the District 2 Victor’s Village houses were equipped with. Running his hand under a tap, he cleared out the blood stains first. Then, he grabbed the tweezers off of the table and held his finger under a magnifying glass set-up.

With the help of the glass, along with his enhanced vision, he finally found the exact spot of injury. Three, miniscule bits of lead were stuck to his index finger. Carefully, he used the tweezers and steadily extracted the specks, suppressing a cry of pain each time. Finally, once the specks were out, he checked his finger once again. He didn’t feel any pain anymore, so he was sure that there was no other bit left. He looked at his finger, as the blood had finally stopped, while three dark-red spots were the only remaining evidence of the injury.

Keeping the tweezers back in place, he sighed in relief. He had managed to keep the severity of the injury from Winn. He had even kept the reason of the injury to himself. Because Mon El had indeed heard Winn’s warning in time. However, that very moment, his hand had suffered a tremor, which had caused his finger to come in contact with the lead.

The tremors had been getting worse now. They came randomly and took him by surprise. Mon El wished he could stop them, or at least figure out the cause. But even that hadn’t helped, for the cause as he had realized had something to do with her.

Ever since their final meeting in the forest, the tremors in his hand had been flaring up. For the past month and a half, whenever his mind had strayed towards thoughts about her, the tremors had come. Mon El knew how dangerous it was for him to work in the factory like this. But he didn’t have a choice. Ever since that day, he had refused to let himself go to the forest. The memories, he was afraid, would only make things worse.

He slowly made his way across the room and towards the door. Just as he opened it, he was suddenly standing in front of Maya, who appeared as though she was about to enter the room herself.

They wordlessly stared at each other for a second, before Maya began. “Are you okay?”

Just as Mon El was about to respond with his usual, ‘I’m fine,’ he was interrupted as his sister spoke up abruptly.

“And please,’ she said, ‘say I’m fine’ only if you really are fine. Otherwise just don’t say anything at all. It’s better than you lying to me.”

Mon El was taken aback by his sister’s sudden outburst. He stared at her for a few seconds, noticing how determined she looked. Then, finally regaining his senses, he raised the index finger of his right hand and explained, “It’s just a small injury, but it’s healing already.”

Upon glancing at how the only injury on his finger now was a diminished three dots, Maya finally let up the determination, as the look in her eyes turned softer. She understood that Mon El’s super healing had kicked in already.

“I’m sorry,” she said after a few seconds. She paused a little, before continuing. “I just wanted to make sure you really were okay.” With that, she gave him a nod, turned and walked away, leaving Mon El standing alone in the corridor.

Mon El sighed.

He understood. He knew why Maya was upset. It was actually the second reason why he had, for the past month, stayed for as long as he could in the factory, not really coming home until dark. When he thought about it, Mon El realized that he had been avoiding staying at home for quite some time now. Ever since he had returned from the arena. 

The main cause for it was the fact that Maya was indeed right. 

Every time his sister had asked him whether he was alright, every time Rhea had enquired about his well being, every time Winn had tried to pry from him his reason for staying in the factory, Mon El had responded with one very rehearsed reply:

“I’m fine.”

But the truth of the matter was that he was anything but. He knew it himself. But that meant that he was knowingly lying to the people closest to him, to the people that cared about him the most. Mon El understood the concern in their eyes whenever they saw him, the irritation whenever he had supplied them with the same answer. He hated doing it to them. But he knew he didn’t have a choice. He had to keep them as far away from his nightmares, his fears that were there because of the Games, because if he didn’t, the alternative included letting them know exactly how he felt. It meant letting them near his memories, his experiences in the arena. That was something he wasn’t willing to do. He couldn’t let his family experience what he went through.

Even then, not talking to Maya seemed wrong. Before the Games, the duo had always shared everything with each other. They would spend hours simply talking to one other. Now, he had barely seen her after coming home from the arena. He understood why it bothered her as much. It bothered him too. A voice in the back of his mind spoke up:

‘She did not deserve this.’

With that, he made up his mind. Closing the door to the work room behind him, he headed towards the staircase at the end of the corridor. But rather than heading up the stairs, he went directly towards the kitchen.

Maya was sitting in the living room. A complex-looking piece of machinery lay in front of her on the centre table, while she was focussing on the screen of her laptop that was kept next to the machinery. She was deep in focus when she heard someone clearing their throat loudly, as if to make her aware of their presence, and from the corner of her eyes, she noticed something near the far end of the living room that caught her attention.

By the frame of the archway that separated the living room from the entrance corridor that contained the staircase that led upstairs, Maya saw two small packages peeping at her from behind. She stared at the packaging and it brought a smile to her face. 

“Permission to enter common-space,” Mon El said with a faux-formality, one that resembled the manner of speaking in a royal setting. “I understand that thee are bothered, but before you grant or revoke permission for me to enter the living room, may I remind you, I bear gifts from the great lands of the frozen desserts, with this masterpiece of a dessert that we common-folk like to call… ice cream.”

Mon El peeked from behind the archway and found a beaming Maya looking right at him. It brought a smile to his own face, as it brought to mind a fond memory. Ever since Maya had been a child, Mon El had told her stories about Daxam. He had painted a picture of his home world for his Earth-sister in the form of bed-time stories. And Maya, in turn, had been quite fascinated by the royal family. It was why, any time they had fought about something, Mon El had always brought her ice-cream in a similar, imitative, royal manner to reconcile.

“I concur,” Maya said in a similar fashion. “Please enter, and be extremely careful with the valuables!”

Mon El smiled as he made his way towards where his sister was sitting. He noticed how, even though the living room was equipped with plush, luxurious couches and chairs, his sister still preferred to sit on the floor. He could understand why. Moving into the Victor’s mansion, had been quite intimidating for the Roqfords, for they had suddenly been extracted from the District poverty and pushed into Capitol luxury. It was why the architecture, the furniture, everything really, still seemed quite foreign. It was why, he noticed, Maya almost always sat on the floor in front of the main couch, rather than on the couch itself. He handed her an ice cream pack and proceeded to sit next to her.

For the first few seconds, they peeled the wrapper off and began eating in silence.

“So,” Mon El spoke up, trying to fill the silence. “What’re you up to here?” he said pointing to the machinery on the table.

“It’s a project for school,” Maya replied. “We have to create a device that can improve the data storage efficiency in the factories by at least fifteen percent.”

“Oh yeah, I remember that.” The schools of 2, it seemed, had been giving the same project ever since Mon El had been Maya’s age. “Did you know they gave us the same project?”

“Yeah, mom told me your project’s kept in the attic. But I’m not allowed to use it. I need to figure it out on my own.”

That earned her a grin from Mon El, before both of them fell silent again. Mon El realized how uncomfortable the silence felt. The two of them had never had this problem before. Before, they could spend, and had spent hours simply talking, sharing their thoughts. But now…

Mon El finally decided to put an end to it. “Listen, I uh-” he began before pausing for some seconds, as though considering his next words. “I wanted to… I wanted to apologize… for the way I’ve been acting for the past few months. You were right. I have been lying to you… and to mom about how I felt.”

The words earned a caring response from her, as she looked at him, her eyes filled with concern. She remained quiet, letting him finish.

“The truth is,” Mon El continued after a pause, “it’s been… rough. Ever since I returned from the arena and ever since… Ever since the Games I just feel like I’ve lost a part of me, somehow. Like I’m not the person that I used to be before, anymore. I mean I am trying to be that guy that I was before the reaping,.. But I just can’t help but think how much has changed already. I mean, I… I still don’t know why I chose to work at the factory when I used to hate going there so much. I can’t go to the academy for some reason, because every time I even look in that direction, my hand starts to shake. Even the forest is not-” he stopped himself before his mind could remind him of her. “It’s not the way it used to be,” he averted from the topic entirely. “It’s this… It’s stuff like this that keeps bothering me. And I am trying to be honest and trying to be open about this with you but… Every time I remember what it was like in the arena I just get this… horrible feeling. Like fear, but worse… And then I look at you and mom and… I just feel like I wanna keep you as away from all that as possible. I don’t ever want you to know what it feels like.”

They remained quiet for some time after that. Mon El was staring at the floor, trying to rid his mind of the melancholy that had spread, while Maya was observing him. After a few seconds, he finally worked up the determination he required to say what he wanted to say next.

“I’m afraid that I’ll never be that guy again,” he began in a barely audible voice. “The way everyone keeps telling me to think like a survivor… I’m afraid that now, that is the only way I can think. Cold and calculating. Like a survivor, like a… like a monster. And I don’t want you anywhere near that monster, Maya.”

Mon El had finally admitted it, even to himself, for the very first time. This was what he was afraid of. This was why Kara’s words had hurt so much. He had already given up so much to just stay alive till now. The one thing he had thought he would never have to let go was his origin, his home. No matter how many people he had killed, he had thought that he would always be an alien that felt guilt like no other human. He had depended on his principles, his memories of home to be his guiding light. But were he to give up on them as well, what was he? A survivor. A super-powered being who had claimed innocent lives in the arena. A monster.

“You’re not a monster”

Lost in thought, drowning even deeper in the wave of despair that he now felt, he was pulled out of it by Maya’s words, as she suddenly spoke up after a few minutes of silence. He looked at her and observed the concern in her eyes.

“I know you feel miserable, but you can’t call yourself a monster.”

“Even after everything I did? After what happened?”

“Especially after what happened,” she exclaimed. “Everything you did in the arena, the way you handled every situation… I’m proud of you. And so is mom.”

“I killed people… Innocent lives I… I couldn’t save them. I sent the head-gamemaker to our house. Put you all in danger without even realizing it-”

“You did what you had to do to survive,” she said assertively, stressing on every word, not leaving any room for a rebuttal. “To protect the people that you wanted to save in the arena. And you did save someone in the end, didn’t you?”

Mon El fell silent to that, as he thought about Kara. He hadn’t saved her as such, otherwise things wouldn’t have been so miserable for both of them. They had both ensured that the other could survive for as long as possible, in the arena. “ _ Kept each other alive, _ ” her voice came to mind.

“And yes, a lot has changed, but not everything,” Maya said. “A lot’s still the same. For instance, I can think of two reasons off the top of my head that would explain why you chose the factory, a lot better than your theory.”

Mon El looked at her with curiosity, prompting her to continue.

“You still hate going there, there’s not a doubt about that part. I mean I see you and how horrible you look every time you come back and realize that you’re going to have to go there all over again. So, the way I see it, you’re punishing yourself. You don’t like spending time there, you never did. But now that you’re allowed to stay away, you don’t want the reason to be that you’re a victor. You don’t wanna be treated differently just because of the fact that you won the Games. I think this is your way of punishing yourself for winning. For surviving.”

It made sense. Lots of sense. Mon El realized how she had correctly identified that his hatred towards the factories was still intact. She had even reminded him of it. It was true that he hated how he was allowed to leave early, or was treated differently than the rest of the workers, just because he was a victor now. Perhaps Maya was right. Perhaps he was trying to make up for everything he did in the arena. For surviving.

“And the second?” he asked, meekly.

“Well,” Maya began. “I think you turned down the offer of mentorship in the academy not so much because of what lies in the academy itself, but instead because of what lies on the way there.”

The words caught him by surprise. He hadn’t thought she knew. He hadn't thought she had noticed.

“Sam’s house lies on the path from our house to the academy, doesn’t it?”

Mon El truly was surprised by how spot-on Maya’s theory was. So much so, that he hadn’t even realized some of the things that he had been doing subconsciously himself. Because it was the truth. He had indeed been avoiding her house altogether. He hadn’t even been able to look in the direction. Because every time he thought about it, he was reminded, in great detail, of what had happened. Of what he had done.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Maya said almost on cue, as though she had read his mind. 

Mon El was unconvinced, he appeared as much. Because no matter how much anyone would try, he would always blame himself for what had happened to Sam. He would always be responsible. It was his fault.

So Maya tried a different approach. “You had to change because of everything. Maybe you’re not the man that you used to be. Maybe you never will be him. But the one thing that will never change, is that you’ll always be a protector, Mon El.” As he looked at her, she continued, “You’ve protected me so many times, and you still wanna do it. You’ve kept this family safe over the years. Even the very reason you were in the arena in the first place was because you wanted to protect Winn.” Seeing that he had no response, no rebuttal to that, she continued. “So, if people want you to think like a survivor, then that’s okay. Because I have complete faith that you will always think like a protector first.”

They were both silent for a moment, as Mon El took in the sincerity in Maya’s voice and the confidence in her eyes. It warmed his heart to know that his sister believed in him. But with elation, came concern.

“You know that everything I do comes back to you and mom, right?” he enquired.

“Well, that's the thing." Maya replied. “Seeing you in the Games everyday, it kinda made us realize that no matter what we do, the fear that something might go wrong is always gonna be there. But we can't let that stop us, especially from doing the right thing. Whatever happens Mon El, mom and I, we're on your side. We're with you."

Mon El stared at Maya for a moment. A few seconds later, his lips slowly curved into a smile, as he teared up a little, “Well now, when did you get so wise and mature?"

“I've always been wise and mature," Maya responded without missing a beat, her own lips curving into a smile as well. “I just never had a chance to show it!"

The duo laughed at that. Another moment passed, before they embraced each other, Mon El promising himself that he would try to be more honest with his family. As they separated, he was struck with an idea. Settling down next to her and checking the laptop screen in front of him, he said, “You should set up a direct link to cloud storage and enable virtualization. That should reduce half the used storage size and increase efficiency by at least ten percent." When Maya looked at him with raised brows, he replied, “What? Mom said you couldn't use my project. She never said anything about using my help!" He winked at her. 

With that, the duo quickly got to work on Maya's school project. They spent hours figuring out trivial system issues and resolving them. Somewhere around midnight, both of them fell asleep, Maya on the couch, while Mon El in a seated position on the floor, his head resting by the armrest. Moments before he slipped into slumber, he realized with a smile,

‘He had missed this.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Points to consider:  
> 1\. The way I see the interior designers, they're basically snobs. The kind of people who see everything and everyone beneath them. Suffice to say, even Effie doesn't like them!  
> 2\. We've all noticed the canvas and unfinished painting in Kara's loft. Her victor hobby was inspired from that. I can totally see her really deeply focusing on each of her works and perfecting every brush-stroke. It's kinda like her escape. And yes, she has painted quite a few pieces of the beautiful sights on Krypton.  
> 3\. Should I name this guy Scott Klein?!  
> 4\. Rue...  
> 5\. This was my first time writing technical jargon. I hope it didn't seem boring!  
> 6\. "The great lands of frozen desserts!"
> 
> Thank You for Reading!  
> Until Next Time!


	9. No Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "But these were no nightmares. This was real."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares are said to be a manifestation of fears...  
> Often, so is reality.

Rhea stilled at the sight in front of her.

It was still dark out. Although she knew that her shift didn't begin for another hour, Rhea preferred to be early. It was why she had hurriedly readied herself even before the sun had risen, and was now standing near the entrance of the living room, at the foot of the grand staircase of the Victor's mansion. She was a woman always on time. One who loathed tardiness as though it were a personal enemy. The proverb 'Better late than never' made little sense to her. She had a different version instead. 'Better hurry than worry.'

But now, as she looked at the palatial living room, she couldn't help but stop and appreciate what she saw. Maya was fast asleep on the main couch. It wasn't surprising for Rhea, for her daughter often stayed up until late to work on her projects and assignments. The girl possessed a passion for technology that ran through every member of the Roqford family. It forbade her to rest until a solution, to whatever problem she was working on, could be obtained. It was why Rhea had often found the girl asleep on the couch, at her study table, or sometimes even uncomfortably on a chair in the workroom. Watching her peaceful, slumbering form was therefore not what had startled Rhea. 

It was the sight of the boy sitting on the floor, leaning by the armrest of the couch, sleeping, that caught her attention. 

Mon El was in a seated position on the floor, with his back to the plush couch, and his feet outstretched next to the glass centre table, on which, a multitude of components were arranged neatly. His head was angled slightly upward, as the side of the couch provided some support for it. The position was quite clearly not a very comfortable one and wasn’t meant for long hours of slumber. Even then, Rhea realized how this was the most peaceful she had seen the boy in such a long time. With his eyes closed and a ghost of a smile adorning his face, he looked calm and carefree. For the first time in so long, Rhea could see no lines of worry on his face. His features weren’t burdened with anxiety. For the first time in so long, Rhea was witnessing the sight of a relaxed Mon El.

The sight of her son.

Slowly, making near to no sound with her footsteps, she walked over to where both her children were fast asleep. She didn’t want to disrupt this moment. She never wanted it to end. Standing near Mon El, she studied the peace on his face. She realized how much she had missed watching him happy, how much she had yearned to see him relaxed. Ever since he had returned from the arena, every night had been plagued by nightmares. Every night, Rhea had awoken to the sound of her son in pain. Every morning, she had observed how he had hurried out the house in desperation to get away from the suffering, from his reality itself. He had thought no one had noticed. But Rhea was his mother. Of course, she noticed.

Another part of her reminded Rhea of how, for the longest time, his suffering was her fault. It brought to mind memories of the moments that had taken place right after the death of her husband. How she had refused to even look at him after the accident. How she had, directly and indirectly, blamed him for his death. Even then, Mon El had somehow managed to single-handedly keep the family together. Even when Rhea had herself refused to be there for him, he had been there for his family. He had never broken down, never lost hope. Perhaps that was the difference between a feeble human and an invincible alien. 

Now, Rhea gently caressed his face. She brushed off the hairs from his forehead, as lightly as possible, ensuring not to wake or startle him, knowing in the back of her mind that he probably couldn’t feel her touch. From the many electronic components sprawled across the table and on the floor near the sofa, Rhea could tell that both her children had been working on some assignment all night long. Her lips curved into a small, hopeful smile, as the realization hit her. It meant that Mon El had decided to help Maya. A part of her had been worried for months now, for her son. But this was an indication that things were perhaps beginning to get better. Mon El, who had also showcased his love for electronics and technology in general, growing up, was starting to slip back into a normal that had been missing for so long, ever since the reaping of the 74th Annual Hunger Games. Rhea recalled the time she and Hector had helped her son acclimate to Earth, and regretted the time she hadn’t spent with him ever since. His final moments before leaving for the Capitol, his final goodbye came to mind, and Rhea quickly shook away the melancholy. For now, she simply looked at his slumbering form, and hoped that the moment would last for as long as it could. She wished the nights that held no nightmares for her son would return. She wished he would finally be okay. He deserved as much. He deserved much more.

With that, she pulled herself back to reality and slowly made her way towards the doors. Before she exited the house, she glanced back one last time, relishing the view a little more, before finally leaving with one thought: 

‘No nightmares today.'

* * *

Snowfall had begun now.

Just as had been predicted by the forecasting devices, the Capitol was soon to be all but submerged under a thick layer of snow. The process had begun already, as a torrent of snow, that had begun falling the previous night, was continuing to fall all over the Capitol. It had caused the many lakes in the city to freeze up, while the tall, shiny buildings were now marked with a fresh coat of white. Every inch of the Capitol was facing the arrival of winter.

The President’s mansion was no exception.

The large manor, already made of spotless white marble, was layered with a fresh coat of snow. The slanting roofs, though meant to prevent ice build-up, were still coated with a thin sheet. It gave the mansion a majestic aura, managing to somehow enhance the grandeur that the estate already possessed. More beautiful however, were the vast gardens that spread in all directions around the building. 

The President’s gardens were a prized possession, a significant feature of the mansion. Numerous workers and avoxes tended to the vast grounds nearly everyday to ensure that its beauty never diminished over time. As a result, the freshly mown grass, the neatly cut hedges as well as the vibrantly coloured flowers coupled with the oncoming snowfall created a view so scenic, that citizens of the Capitol couldn’t help but stare in awe and wonder. 

Even then, the garden possessed one patch that remained hidden from view to passers-by. It was an area meant to be enjoyed only by the eyes of the President, as well as anyone who was fortunate enough to accompany him to this section of the garden. The garden of white roses: an area that the President tended to himself. Chunks of pristine snow were speckled around the cool green leaves. It camouflaged the white roses so well, that it almost felt as though the roses were falling from the sky, and settling down on the plants and among the leaves. The scene was captivating. It was so dazzling that it felt almost unreal, too good, too beautiful to be true. It was why it appeared more like a fantasy than reality. A scenery taken directly from a dream.

But President Snow did not notice any of it.

Though the man was standing near the large windows of the mansion, looking directly towards the picturesque view, he barely appreciated, barely noticed it. He was far too busy, lost in his own thoughts. To him, the dream-world in his own backyard was of little significance in comparison to the nightmare that the nation would face, were he not to handle the situation on time.

Behind him, a holo played the same recording in a loop. It was a clipping of a programme on Capitol TV: ‘Greetings from District 12.’ The show was meant to play a vital role in the head-gamemaker’s strategy of convincing the people of the Districts that Kara Zorel belonged to the Capitol now. It was meant to wipe away her image as the beacon of hope for the rebellion from the minds of people. The idea truly was a brilliant one, as the show mainly focussed on trivial things about the victor’s hobbies that no one in the District would ever care about. It was not only a distraction from the real problems, but also a way to convince people that Kara Zorel didn’t care about those problems. To add to it, Capitol TV was mandatory viewing. That meant that every holo in every house, workplace and other common-places in the Districts would display the show at all times, as long as the Capitol wished. So people all over Panem could see how Kara Zorel no longer cared about her actions in the arena. She appeared untroubled, almost jovial regarding the problems that the people of her own District were facing. She did not address any of the issues at hand. The script she was given, ensured it. So did the entire segment about her victor hobby. 

That was until a small error in the background of a video frame that lasted for exactly five seconds.

“The broadcast was edited out about five seconds after it aired.” Plutarch Heavensbee spoke from his chair at the table in the President’s study. He grabbed the remote kept in front of him and paused the video footage on the holo at the exact moment when the painting appeared most clearly. 

The grand study at the ground floor in the President’s mansion was meant for critical times, and was currently occupied by two leaders. One decided the fate of the Games, the other decided the fate of the entire world. The President had often met heads of Districts here to resolve whatever issue that had led to a crisis that needed to be tended to immediately. Today, the meeting was set up in a hurry to contain the damages that a five second delay had caused. 

“We can’t be sure of the exact number of people that saw it, but… five seconds is a long time,” Plutarch continued. Staring at the slightly blurred painting of the girl from District 11, he tried to think of its consequences, and how they could possibly be handled. The frame was blurred. There really was no telling if people of the Districts even saw it. But that was the problem here. There was no telling. Uncertainty was a dangerous thing. Especially in times like these. 

“The actions cannot be undone," The President, who had his back to Plutarch and had been staring out the large windows of the room, into the gardens this entire time, finally spoke. “However, that does not mean their consequences can be avoided." 

The head-gamemaker understood. He had been thinking along the same terms. The painting may have been a mistake. But someone needed to be held accountable for it. It surely couldn't be the team of interior designers sent to 12 from the Capitol that was in-charge of the show. Holding them responsible solved nothing. It did little to solve the problem at hand. They had to come up with a way that would curb the damage and bring a swift end to the situation.

After a few minutes of silence, Heavensbee responded. “I’ll send the Guard in 12, shall I?” He realized the one person that they could hold accountable for the ordeal. The victor from 12, and in extension District 12 itself needed to be punished. The other districts had to realize the consequences of a mistake as seemingly trivial as this one. The Guard had already been set up in District 11, the place where the riots first began, along with Districts 7 and 9, where the riots had spread. Now, District 12 would join that list too.

“No.”

The President’s single-worded response surprised the head-gamemaker. He looked with knitted brows, as the President remained impassive and continued to stare out the window, his back still to Heavensbee. 

“The Guard needs to be involved,” President Snow continued. “But not in 12. Send them to 2 instead.”

The response only furthered the head-gamemaker’s confusion. “To 2, sir? I don’t follow.” If Kara Zorel was to be held accountable for the incident, what good was it to harshen the conditions in a District that was different from her own home? “It’s a Career District. They’ve always been loyal to the Capitol and the Games. Why would we need the Guard there?”

Silence was the only response he received, as President Snow remained quiet for a few minutes. After that, he finally turned and faced him. “Because it not only solves our problem, but also brings about a situation that is totally in our favour,” he said as he proceeded towards the meeting table, and took his place in front of the holo. Taking note of the head-gamemaker’s still knitted brows, President Snow continued. “Have you ever heard of the ‘False Flag’?” he asked. Upon receiving no as an answer, the President continued to explain. “It was a war technique very common in ancient Terra. A false flag is a deception. It creates the appearance that a particular group was responsible for some activity, disguising the actual source of responsibility. They used it when they wished to create enmity between two nations. Attack one of the two, and make it look like the other’s fault.”

The head-gamemaker began slowly to understand exactly what the President had in mind, but remained quiet. As a result, the President continued. “If we set up the Guard in 12 after what happened, that makes the Capitol their enemy. It would be detrimental to us, in the sense that since there haven’t been riots in 12 yet, once the Guard is set up, there surely will be. But, if we were to punish a prominent Career District, as you say 2 is, and project to the people that it was her fault, then District 2 would make Kara Zorel, and by extension her District their enemy.”

It made sense. Plutarch Heavensbee fell silent at realizing how well thought the proposed solution was. District 2 already antagonized Kara Zorel for taking away some of the glory of winning the 74th Annual Hunger Games from the more deserving victor that belonged to 2. So, projecting that the change in conditions in the district, owing to the arrival of the Guard, was actually her fault would be very simple. It would actually be more convincing than ever. To add to it, the enmity between the Districts would only grow, reducing what little chances they had at leading a rebellion with a united front.

“Moves and Countermoves,” the President said to an amazed Heavensbee.

This time, it was the head-gamemaker’s turn to be impressed. “Brilliant,” he marvelled at the strategy. He quickly exited the room to issue the order.

The people of 2 had no idea of the nightmare that was headed their way.

* * *

Mon El walked around the dimly-lit room, carefully stepping around the various old components that littered the floor.

The sun would set soon now, giving the surrounding area an orangish glow, further reducing the light in the room. It was an indication to him that it was getting late, and that he needed to get home soon. 

It had been two weeks since Mon El had last visited the factory. Two weeks, since his younger, more mature than he remembered sister, Maya, had talked sense into him, and made him realize how wrong he was regarding his decision to continue working in the District factory. After that night, Mon El had realized quite a few things. He had understood how important it truly had been to tell Maya how he felt, for it was his first step towards recovering from the mess that the Games had created. That night, for the first time in months, he had felt as though he could hope again. He had found the part of him that kept him steady, the part that he had lost somewhere owing to his time in the arena. 

Since then, Mon El had reconsidered his decisions. He had spent the next day trying to figure out the best course of action that he could take. One that didn’t require for him to go back to the one place in the entire district that he absolutely hated. Because Maya had indeed been right. He had been punishing himself, working in the factories. He needed to stay away. He needed to take time to understand that working there made up for nothing. It didn’t change what had already happened in the arena. It didn’t bring anyone back. It could only hurt him, and by extension, hurt the people that he cared for the most on Terra. He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t stand by and watch his family get hurt. That was why he had resigned the very next day. That was why, for the past two weeks, he had simply spent time at home, catching up with Maya, helping her with whatever assignments she needed help with, and taking time to figure out what he could do next. (He had even considered somehow trying to visit  _ her _ , but had kept that plan on hold for now.)

It was why he was here now. One of Maya’s assignments had required a power booster, a component that Mon El had remembered was used extensively in the factories. Though he knew Maya couldn’t make use of a brand new piece of tech directly from the factories, he was aware of the old District storage warehouses that consisted of a multitude of such trivial electronic parts. The warehouses had been an active storage facility for the District, years before they had shifted to a much more efficient method of storing components. Although the place was supposed to be empty, and each and every spare had to be transferred to the new facilities, as a result of human error, not all spares made it. Some were forgotten here. As a result, after years, when the warehouses became abandoned, they continued to store numerous unused and unaccounted for spare electronic parts.

The place was located quite close to the factory, close enough that Mon El could hear the constant whirring that emanated from within the walls of the workshops without needing to make use of his enhanced hearing. Mon El had been searching for nearly two hours now, figuring his way through the maze-like corridors of the warehouse. He had been careful enough not to accidentally step onto some of the machinery that was left carelessly on the ground. After another fifteen minutes of searching and navigating through mostly uncatalogued shelves, he finally found what he had been looking for, when

A dull thud sounded from the other side of the room.

Mon El instantly whipped his head back in response. He remained still, making use of his X-ray vision to see, through the dusty shelves in his way, what or who was on the other side. His senses were on alert now, as he tried to pick up even the slightest of sound. While he saw nothing, he heard another dull thud, this time closer to the main exit of the storehouse. This time, rather than standing still, Mon El immediately moved and rushed towards the gate. He kept himself hidden from the other side by ducking behind the large shelf between him and the place where the sound had first come from. With quiet steps, he dashed towards the door, sprinting across the floor until he finally reached it and pulled the wooden door open.

Nothing.

Rather than someone on the other side, he found no one. He was greeted with nothing but the whoosh of air upon suddenly opening the battered door of the warehouse. He turned to look inside once more, knitting his brows in confusion. He had heard the thud, twice this time. Then why wasn’t anyone here? The same had happened at the factory, back when he had almost attacked his best friend accidentally. He had heard a startling sound that day too. At the time, he had thought it was Winn. But later, he had realized quite a few things that didn’t add up. ‘What had caused the clang? Winn didn’t have tools on him. Also, who had made the sound even before Winn had got there? And how was it on the other side?’

He had promptly forgotten about the questions, relating the answers to the paranoia that he had developed ever since he had returned from the arena. But now, the questions were back, with a few more additions. At the top, was the one question that was bugging him the most.

‘Was he being followed?’

Just as he had begun trying to answer, another sound interrupted his thoughts. Rather than from the warehouse, this sound however had been picked up by his enhanced hearing. It made him realize that the sound was coming from afar. He turned to look in its direction. He watched with knitted brows, as he heard the sound of a vehicle approaching District 2.

Instinctively, he left the old warehouse and walked over to the streets. The streets of 2 were crowded, people walking about, getting to shops, reporting for or returning from their shifts. Everything seemed normal. The sun was beginning to set now. It would be dark soon. Mon El kept staring in one direction. The sound was getting louder. The vehicle was getting nearer.

Instantly, he saw it. In the distance a large, dark-coloured vehicle, resembling Terran tanks in its shape and form was rapidly approaching the District. No one saw it yet, as the people were carrying on with their work. His enhanced vision further told him that the vehicle wasn’t an ordinary shuttle, like the ones that visitors from the Capitol often used when they came to the Districts. Instead, this vehicle had a certain strength associated with it. It looked unwelcoming, intimidating even. It wasn’t until he used his X-ray vision to look through the thick walls of the automobile, did he finally make sense of the situation.

Peacekeepers of the Guard.

Intuitively, Mon El rushed towards the factory and found a hiding spot in a well concealed alley. He ducked behind the stone walls and watched with anxiety. He wasn’t sure why, but a part of him warned him that something was wrong. It told him that whatever the reason was for a fleet of peacekeepers to make its way to the District, it couldn’t mean anything good. Something had gone horribly wrong. The vehicle was approaching.

It was finally close enough for people to begin turning their heads towards the direction of the sound. One-by-one, the people on the crowded streets of District 2 turned to see the arrival of a monstrosity. Up close, the vehicle appeared rugged. Behind the tank, an army of peacekeepers marched steadily and followed the vehicle as it moved smoothly across the uneven terrain of the district and finally entered the streets. What was startling however, was that it did not stop there. Once on the main streets of the district, it didn’t slow down to a stop in front of the many confused people that were eyeing it with curiosity. Instead it sped up, alarming the many passers-by, causing them to rush and dive to the sides and get away from its way. Within seconds of its arrival, the vehicle had caused chaos. Even when it was met with angry voices of people who had almost been hit by it, it still showed no signs of slowing down. Instead, it turned sharply and suddenly and finally screeched to a stop in front of the Training academy, at the near centre of the district.

It remained motionless for a half second. Mon El held his breath as he waited for whoever was inside to step out.

Suddenly, the doors of the tank were opened with a kick. A lone man in a peacekeeper’s uniform exited the vehicle. Behind him, two more peacekeepers, clearly inferior to the first man in rank followed suit. They calmly walked over to the entrance of the District’s Peacekeeper office and stood there, impassive, seemingly waiting for instructions. Just then, Commander Plinth, the Commander in-charge of the Peacekeepers unit in District 2 rushed out of his office. He walked over to where the new man was standing and greeted him with a hand raised for a handshake.

“Commander Thread,” he said with a stoic face. “Welcome to District 2.”

Before he could reach the man, however, the two peacekeepers that had arrived with Thread, darted over to where Plinth was standing. Sneaking up on him from behind, one of the peacekeepers startled the man by covering his face with a black cloth, while the other looped a string around his neck and dragged him back. Plinth, distracted, disoriented, tried to regain his balance, but there was little he could do. He struggled for a few seconds, moving his arms around, wildly, trying to get his two attackers off of him and trying to call for help. But none of it worked. Another few seconds later, suddenly, abruptly, his arms fell down while the struggle stopped. 

Hiding in a distance, watching with shocked, wide eyes, Mon El could almost hear the sound of the absent death cannon.

The two peacekeepers quietly dragged Plinth’s lifeless body away, as the new man, Commander Thread turned and looked around him. A crowd had begun to form near the Academy’s entrance. People who were enraged by the arrival of the new men were now stilled and shocked by their actions. Everything stilled. People stared at the lone man standing at the near centre of their District.They watched with fear and waited for his next move.

Commander Thread, unaffected from all of it, calmly removed his helmet. Mon El saw the face that went so well with his daunting appearance. His hair was white, cut neatly as per the regulations of Peacekeepers. He appeared a little older than Plinth, but unlike the former Commander, his face was not mellow. Rather, it was enraged. It appeared furious, ready to take on anyone who challenged his authority. Even from a distance, Mon El could very clearly identify the viciousness in his eyes. It was like a monster was hiding behind them.

Then, dropping his helmet on the ground, he turned towards the street where the peacekeepers that had been following the vehicle on foot, were now standing in a disciplined formation. In a raspy, gravelly voice, he issued his first order in this district.

“Let’s get started.” He removed his gun from its holster and fired it at the sky, the sound reverberating all across the district.

Eerily, the army of peacekeepers that was facing the crowds remained still for a second after the clear sound of gunshot. Owing to their helmets, they appeared like an army of predators eyeing their prey. Observing the people around them and their panicked faces, they remained still for another second, before suddenly, they began running.

Guns at the ready, the peacekeepers dashed towards the oblivious crowd and began gathering them up. They ran swiftly and approached ferociously. There was no stopping them. Anyone unfortunate enough to stumble in their way, was shoved to the side and then dragged away. People began screaming. A group of the armed men entered the numerous shops that were littered on both sides of the main street. They began dragging people out and forcing them on their knees while they ravaged the place. They opened drawers, broke down closets and gathered all supplies out to the street, dumping them in a large pile just outside the entrance of the shops. Once the piles were formed, they used weapons that resembled guns but were in fact flamethrowers and burned everything. Shopkeepers were pulled by their collars and shoved to the side. Those who struggled or tried to keep them away from their stores were shot in the leg.

Mon El watched in shock. For the longest time, he was frozen to his spot. Hidden from view in the alley, no one had noticed him yet. He observed as people of the district; men, women and children were all being gathered up and terrorized with guns and other weapons. He stared at the multiple fires that were blazing strong, even in the icy conditions of a snowy winter. Screams overwhelmed his ears as a thought suddenly struck him. Instantly, he whipped his head towards his house. The Victor’s Village, it seemed, remained completely unaffected by the chaos. He mentally sighed in relief once recognizing that his family was safe. The moment of relief however, was short-lived, as his attention was pulled back to what was going on around him. Suddenly, a large fire broke out towards the end of the street. Mon El stared in utter shock. Some of the peacekeepers, it seemed, had set the old warehouse on fire. The same warehouse that Mon El had been in not minutes ago. He watched, as the large construct burned while the armed men standing outside it only attacked it more with their flamethrowers. 

Mon El was suddenly overwhelmed by it all. The fire, the panicked screams, they all reminded him of something. His hand began shaking as he began slipping into a trance. Suddenly, before he could realize it, or help it, he could no longer see District 2. Instead, he saw a place that now existed only in his memories. Hiding in the dark alley that no one had checked yet, Mon El was no longer standing in 2. He wasn’t even on Earth anymore. He was someplace else. A place that Lar recognized, but was foreign to Mon El.

He was on Daxam.

The flames around him were of lesser intensity, but the fear was there. The screams of his people, as they ran to take cover, to save themselves; it was all far too familiar. His home was crumbling in front of him. And he couldn’t do anything. Hopelessness began to set in when suddenly,

A voice. A familiar voice sounded in his mind. It belonged to a girl. 

‘ _ Because I have complete faith that you will always think like a protector first _ ,’ she said.

It was as though he had suddenly been given the oxygen he so desperately needed to breathe. In that moment, he suddenly understood. In that moment, he suddenly realized. He was no longer that child anymore. He was no longer a helpless man. He was more than just a survivor. He was a protector.

“Help! Someone please, help me!” a man had fallen on the ground near the opening of the alley that Mon El was in. His screams caused him to turn and observe the scene in front of him. The man, it seemed, was clutching something in his arms, a prized possession, and was hiding it from the two peacekeepers that were standing over him, trying to snatch it away. The man tried with all his strength to keep the armed men away, but couldn’t, as they finally grabbed the object, a wooden photo-frame and tossed it in the burning pile with the others. Once it was out of the way, one of the two peacekeepers removed a baton from his belt and raised it, in order to hit the man for trying to resist.

That was all it took. That was what set the alien, hiding in the alley, in motion. Mon El recognized this scene from memory. He remembered a similar man back on Daxam, a servant to the royal palace the man had been, in a similar situation. He remembered how that man too had screamed in agony, and had begged for someone to help him, save him. He recalled how he had wanted to save him, but had been unable to, for Var Eth had dragged him away. But Var Eth wasn’t here anymore. No one from his home planet was here. No one but him. No one could stop him from saving this man. From protecting him.

Because that was what he was. A protector.

With that in mind, he ran at full speed towards the two peacekeepers, who had their backs to the entrance of the alley. As a result, they did not notice as a man came at them running at quite a speed, with no intentions of stopping before he could reach them. His intentions were different; they were to stop them.

Just as the peacekeeper was about to hit the man on the ground with his baton, Mon El rushed towards him and tackled both peacekeepers to the ground. Startled, they didn’t even realize what had happened, before Mon El was quickly on his feet again. He forcefully grabbed both the peacekeeper’s guns away and tossed them aside, disarming them of the most lethal weapon. Just then, the guard with the baton stood up and aimed a blow at Mon El. But he was far too slow, as Mon El intercepted the weapon mid-air. A jolt of electricity ran through his hand, as he realized that the baton was actually charged. They were actually planning to hit the other man with an electric baton. The realization enraged him even more, as he stared at the peacekeeper who was holding the baton in his hand, trying to pull it away from Mon El. But instead of letting it go, Mon El gripped the stick tightly and using nearly some of his superhuman strength, twisted it. The baton broke into half with a crack. Seemingly shocked by this, the peacekeeper stilled for a second, giving Mon El enough time to punch him with just enough intensity to knock him out. Behind him, the second peacekeeper tried to charge at Mon El with a knife, but was far too slow, as Mon El quickly threw the piece of the baton that he was holding at his helmet to distract him for enough time to grab the arm that was holding the knife and push it out of his hand. This guard too was met with a similar fate, as he fell to the ground next to the first peacekeeper. In a split second, the fight was over, as two peacekeepers were lying near his feet. In the next he turned. The fire was still burning around him. He was still on Daxam. Suddenly, he felt the familiar jolt of electricity in his back. That however didn’t bring him back to reality.

The whip that cut his cheek and caused him to fall back to the ground did.

Mon El grabbed his face and seethed in pain. The cut was bleeding, while something about the pain told him the material that the tip of the whip was made of. Forceful arms suddenly grabbed him from behind and made him stand up and then forced him down on his knees. His movement was restricted. He looked up to see Commander Thread holding the whip that had hit him. He saw the malice in his eyes.

“To the square,” he said in his raspy voice.

* * *

Maya had stayed inside for far too long. She had been forbidden to step outside. So she had sat in the front room of the Victor’s mansion, her ears stuck to the walls, trying to decipher exactly what was going on. She was worried, scared to death, for her mother and her brother had still not returned. 

‘What was taking them so long?!’ she had thought in panic, her mind landing on the worst possible scenario. Her mother had left in the afternoon, for her evening shift while her brother had left a few hours after that. Rhea was supposed to be back nearly an hour ago, while Mon El was supposed to get home even earlier. Yet, both of them had been quite late, causing Maya to pace in the entrance corridor awaiting their arrival. That was when the chaos had begun. Maya had heard a loud gunshot and had suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. Seconds later, screams had reached her ears and she had almost rushed out the doors to check it out. She had, however, stopped herself at the very last second, as she had reminded herself of Mon El’s instructions for her whenever such a situation occurred. ‘Anytime you hear something suspicious outside, Do Not go out to check. Stay inside and be prepared.’ She had reluctantly backed away from the door handle. But as she turned and walked near the living room, she heard the sound of the door handle twisting. Instantly, she grabbed the heavy vase kept in the living room and hid behind the walls, the vase raised in one hand, ready to attack the intruder. Just then, she heard the door open and

“Maya?”

She instantly recognized the voice. Emerging from the living room, the vase still in hand, she called out. “Mom?”

As soon as she saw her mother standing at the entrance, she kept the vase back and rushed towards her, embracing her tightly. Rhea reciprocated with an equal intensity. The mother-daughter duo remained like that for a while, both equally relieved to see each other okay. Once they separated, Maya asked in a voice filled with concern.

“Where’s Mon El?”

Rhea was startled by the question. Knitting her brows, she asked, “He’s not home yet?” Maya shook her head no, worried even more now.

“Mom, what’s happening out there?” Maya asked in a panicked voice.

“New Commander of Peacekeepers,” Rhea replied in an anxious tone. “District 2 has been assigned the Guard, it seems.”

“We have to look for him,” Maya said suddenly, after a moment of quiet. “We have to get him back.”

Rhea closed her eyes and determinedly shook her head no. “You have to stay in here.” Before Maya could protest, Rhea spoke in a stern voice, “Maya, you are not to go out there, and that is final.” Rhea understood her daughter’s concern. Rhea wanted to go out and look for him herself. But she had to stay here. For Maya’s sake. She knew she couldn’t leave her alone. Especially not now.

Maya had instead resorted to waiting in the front room with her ears trained on the sounds coming from outside. For a minute, everything had fallen silent. Suspiciously silent. It had caused Rhea to go out the door and look for the cause of silence.

That was when the sound of a scream had reached their house.

His scream.

Rhea had completely stilled, frozen to the spot upon hearing the sound of distress. Her mind went numb as she heard his voice in pain. In agony.

Maya had the exact opposite reaction. Instead of freezing up, the cry of pain had caused her to dash out the door and run towards the source. Behind her, Rhea was calling out to her, but she didn’t stop. She didn’t look back. She couldn’t think of anything else. All she could hear was his scream. He was in trouble.

Running as fast as she could, she finally reached the near centre of the District, where a large crowd had formed around something. She made her way through the crowd, hurriedly as she heard his voice again. As soon as she crossed the dense crowd and reached the inner circle, that was when she stilled.

What she saw in front of her was something she had seen in her nightmares.

A tall construct stood at the centre, with the Capitol logo emblazoned on it. At the foot of the pole, with his hands cuffed on either side of the post, was a man kneeling with his back bloodied, whimpering in pain. His shirt had been ripped off, as the slashes of a whip appeared clearly against the skin on his back. His head was slumping over his shoulders, while he was breathing with great difficulty, even the slightest movement seemingly causing immense pain.

Maya couldn’t move. She felt as though she was stuck in a nightmare. She willed herself to wake up, but found that she couldn’t. Just then, the man who was standing over him, with the bloodied whip in his hand, raised his arm. He pulled back with a fierce intensity and brought the whip down harshly, striking his back with it. The scream that escaped Mon El’s throat was evidently primal, as he convulsed in agony. It pricked Maya’s ears and forced her into action, as she screamed “No!” and without thinking, ran straight to where he was, placing herself between the peacekeeper with the whip and him.

Commander Thread looked at her, a little offended that he had been interrupted. He paused for a second, before saying in a dangerously low voice, “Move.” The girl remained in place, refusing to comply. 

“Maya!” Mon El exclaimed in a strained voice, the pain transparent in his tone. “Go home! Get out of here, please!” he cried, trying to breathe deeply, shuddering in pain.

Maya didn’t move. She curled her hands into a fist and stood in place.

Thread looked even more insulted. His anger could very clearly be seen on his face now. Before he could react however, another man came rushing to the circle.

“Woah, woah, easy!” the man deliberately spoke in a clam yet stern manner. He held his hands stretched out, level with his chest, as a defensive position, trying to convey to Thread to calm down. “Let’s all just please relax. Please, calm down,” he said, placing himself between Maya and Thread. “Trust me, Commander,” he said referring to how Thread had placed his hand on his gun, about to pull it out of the holster. “You don’t wanna do that.”

“Oh yeah?” Thread challenged the man. “And why shouldn’t I just shoot the both of you?”

“You recognize her?” the man asked, pointing to Maya. “That’s Maya Roqford. Darling of the Capitol.” Thread looked at the girl and suddenly realized. “And the man you have tied back there,” the man in front of Thread continued. “That’s Mon El Roqford. The victor of the 74th Annual Hunger Games. She’s his sister. Both siblings are extremely loved in the Capitol.”

The mention of Mon El finally caused Thread to move his hand away from his gun. Realization struck him, while hesitation set in. He suddenly, visibly backed down just a little, thinking about how he had accidentally punished a victor. But he didn’t back down completely. Instead, he explained in irritation, “He interrupted a peacekeeper. They both did!” he exclaimed.

“Look Commander,” the man continued in a calm tone. “You’re new here, aren’t you? Believe me. I am trying to help you. The two siblings you have back here, they happen to be the most popular brother-sister duo at the moment. Victors are a big deal in the Capitol, you know as much. And this place has the highest number of those. So are you sure, and I mean absolutely sure that Snow wants two dead victors here? Because that’s exactly what you’re looking at.” The man paused for a moment before continuing. “I’m Harrison Wells, victor of the Second Quarter Quell.”

That was when the Commander looked visibly shaken. He looked around him, as he quickly realized that he had caught not one but two prominent victors. He knew he couldn’t carry out the punishment anymore. He had to back down. But he had to do so without losing the deference of the people around them.

“Look, you already got a couple of lashes in, didn’t you,” Wells spoke up, as though he had read his mind. “You’ve punished him for getting in the way. Just let it go now. And we will too.”

Thread finally seemed convinced. He stared at the three people in front of him and remained in place. Finally, he turned, addressing the people all around him. “Clear the square!” he shouted so everyone could hear. “You’re all on curfew. Anyone out after dark will be shot on sight!” As people quickly began dispersing, a young man rushed towards them from the steps of the District factory and stopped near the girl. Thread finally turned to Wells. He paused for a moment, before saying at last, “Get him out of here.”

Instantly, the girl and the man who had just arrived rushed to the post and began removing the cuffs from Mon El’s wrists. Wells stayed for a moment, thanking Thread, before he too helped get Mon El out of the square.

Mon El was slouched by the post. The moment his cuffs were undone, his arms fell lifelessly to the ground, while his upper body, no longer able to stay in place slouched forward and leaned by the post. He was barely conscious now, but the pain was there. It shone clearly on his exhausted face.

“Maya,” Winn called out. He had been the man who had come to the square in the end. “Go home and tell your mom. Harry and I will bring him.” The girl seemed unconvinced, a little shaken up to act immediately. Only when Wells reassured her once again, did she finally break into a run towards her house.

Once his cuffs were off, Wells grabbed on to Mon El’s shoulders while Winn grabbed his feet. Even the slightest movement of his back was causing him to whimper and groan in pain. With great difficulty, they managed to lift him and carry him all the way to Victor’s Village. When they reached his house, Rhea had already kept the door open. “In here,” she led them to the front room, the closest to the entrance. Both Winn and Wells gently laid him on his chest on a mattress that had been placed on the only table in the room. 

Rhea rushed into the room. As soon as she stopped in front of him and looked at his injured back, she froze. His back was bleeding. It looked extremely wounded. As soon as Mon El settled down on the mattress, he began howling again, the pain caused from his journey from the post till here finally catching up to him. He couldn’t stay still, struggling to find a way to stop the pain. His own breathing was hurting him.

“Whipping post,” Wells provided, but Rhea didn’t understand. Her son was invincible. He could never be restrained or this hurt by a simple whip. Unless

That was when Winn interrupted Wells. “The whip had lead attached to the end.”

Rhea suddenly felt sick. She couldn’t breathe as she realized what had happened. Looking at his back, she now noticed the small pieces stuck to his skin, making him bleed even more. But it wasn’t the visual that got her straight to action. In fact, the visual managed to freeze her in place.

All of a sudden, Mon El, who had a death-grip on the table below him that would’ve cracked were it not for the lead in his back, lifted his hand with great difficulty and grabbed onto Rhea’s hand. “...Mom,” he whimpered in a barely audible voice. “Mom, please… please... make it s-stop. Please he-help me.”

That was enough. Rhea understood exactly what she needed to do. She quickly moved towards his back and tried to find a relatively bigger piece of lead embedded in it. She found one near the shoulder. Then, with steady hands, she grabbed the piece, bearing in mind how Mon El screamed when she moved it even a little. To Winn’s surprise, she pressed the lead a little further into Mon El’s shoulder. The alien hissed in pain, but a second later, Rhea realized the technique had worked. The increased contact with his skin had finally caused him to lose his consciousness. He gave out a shaky breath, before finally slumping on the mattress with his eyes closed.

“Maya,” Rhea continued in a steady, determined voice. “Get the sun lamps from the attic.” She understood that Wells was here, but ignored it for now. She could make up a story for him later. Right now, Mon El needed to be treated as soon as possible. She went to the storage room and brought a magnifying glass and some instruments to remove the shards of lead stuck to his back. By the time she returned, Maya had already brought down the lamps and had almost turned them on.

“Not yet!” Rhea stopped her. “We need to ensure all the lead is out of his system before he can start healing. Winn, Harry, get some snow from outside. Maya, help them.” she said as she sat down and got to work. She was not letting her son die today.

* * *

Kara had been waiting for the past two weeks.

When Rue’s painting had aired all over Panem, she had thought that President Snow would surely punish her for it. She had been expecting the shoe to drop the very next day, or even the very same day. But nothing had happened that day. Or on the next, or the next or even the next after that. For two weeks, Kara had waited, but nothing had happened. Finally, today, she had let her guard down just a little. She had felt some of her worry slipping away, while a sliver of hope had begun filling her mind. Maybe the interior designer had been right. Perhaps no one had seen it. Maybe she had gotten away with it after all. Could it be?

Almost as if on cue, the holos in her home turned on. She was standing by the main couch in the living room, when the Capitol logo shone on the holo in front of her. She looked at it, startled. She instantly tuned her hearing to the holos in the neighbouring houses. Was this a mandatory viewing? But, hearing nothing but silence, she knitted her brows in confusion. Only the holos of her house had been turned on. Only her house was receiving this transmission.

The logo stayed on the screen for a minute, before finally the footage changed. The holo now displayed the town square of some district. Chaos reigned all over the place, as people were running for their lives. She recognized that the Guard had been called to some district, but where? Finally, the chaos died down a little and a crowd formed around a large construct that was placed at the centre, the town square. To the construct, a man was being tied, his hands cuffed on either side. His back was to the camera, so she couldn’t see his face.

Kara watched, as she didn’t understand for the longest time. Finally, when a peacekeeper came near the man and raised his whip, did she finally realize what was happening. The man was to be whipped. But who?

The scream that escaped the poor man suddenly caused Kara’s stomach to drop. She shuddered at the sight, at the familiarity of the voice. Almost as if on cue, the camera angle changed. Now, it was a closer shot, capturing the man’s face with extreme clarity. She could see the pain on his face, the blood on his back. She could hear his cries of pain and it made it difficult for her to breathe. She couldn’t believe what was happening.  _ ‘Why was this happening?! _ ’ A voice in her head wailed. In the back of her mind, she knew exactly why.

This was her punishment. 

She had often seen him in pain in her nightmares. Often heard his screams in the silence. But these were no nightmares. This was real. This had happened, was possibly happening right now.

The realization quickly got her moving. Without a look back, she rushed towards the front door and stepped outside. She wasn’t going to be stopped now. She could not take it anymore. She had to see him. And she wouldn’t stay still until she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Points to consider:-  
> 1\. "loathed tardiness as though it were a personal enemy!" I can totally see Rhea doing that!  
> 2\. For all those who haven't read/seen Hunger Games, an Avox is a person from the District that has been punished by the Capitol and is thereby forced to work as a servant in the Capitol.  
> 3\. Capitol TV: A channel (probably the only channel) for the District holo screens. It's on YouTube if you guys would like to watch!  
> 4\. Talking about the brilliance of Snow's strategy (We all hate him, but the man has brains!) is that he waited 2 weeks to finally send the guards. It would give off a false sense of peace and then BAM!  
> 5\. The warehouses are sort of like a District 2 version of the Hob, with the only exception that they're still pretty abandoned. It's not a market or anything, but people do go there to get electric parts for unofficial use.  
> 6\. Commander Thread of the Guard.  
> ...
> 
> Thanks for Reading!  
> Until Next Time!


	10. Walls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tearing down walls is a tricky business. Even a slight push in the right spot can cause them to crumble.

Kara held back the tears.

She felt the cool forest air on her face. The wind rushed by her with an urgency that Kara had never quite felt before in all her life on Terra. Outstretched arms in front of her led the way, while her eyes, though keeping a thorough watch on her surroundings, squinted just a little, owing to the onslaught of the cool wind that rushed by. The atmosphere was chilly; as cool as it could get during winter. But Kara barely felt it at all. Her Kryptonian skin was invulnerable to the extremities that Terra had to offer. It was why she was able to bear the icy weather. 

It was why she could bear to fly in said weather at such great speeds.

Navigating through the dense forest, she was but a blur among the trees. From the way the climate around her had changed, she could tell that a storm was approaching. The tall trees of the forest were beginning to sway with the criss-cross, rapid motion of air. The snow that covered the entire forest floor was only causing the temperature to further drop as the winds simply siphoned some of the cold from down below and continued on their endless, intense journey. But she ignored it all. She barely paid attention to the harsh changes in the weather. She paid no heed to the ominous forest that appeared almost haunting in the dark. She simply flew, for only one thing remained in her mind.

‘She had to see him.’

That was all that mattered to her for now. That was all that she had been able to think about from the moment she had seen him being punished in the town square for mistakes neither him nor her had anything to do with. When the holos in her Victor’s mansion had turned on on their own accord that evening, it was because President Snow had ordered them to. He wanted Kara to see the destruction that she had unwillingly and unknowingly caused by even considering to make a painting of a fallen tribute from another district. Kara understood, with distinct clarity, that the footage of the Guard being set up in District 2 was the President’s way of frightening Kara, intimidating her. It was a penalty for the damages that she had caused, even though it was none of her fault. It was a way to keep Kara Zorel, the victor of District 12, in check.

What President Snow failed to realize was that a Kryptonian couldn’t be kept in check against her will.

A Kryptonian on Earth possessed powers that were beyond compare to anything and anyone that humans had ever come across. The radiation of the yellow sun allowed for such magnificent powers to exist, that it gave rise to a being so unimaginable, so mythical, that for Kara Zorel to exist, was nothing short of a miracle in itself. It was why Kara had accomplished extraordinary things in all her time on Terra. Her powers gave her the ability to accomplish them. What was considered impossible for a human, was ordinary for her. It was how she had covered the vast distance of woodland that lay between District 2 and her own district, in a matter of minutes. Given all her abilities, a Kryptonian was perhaps the most powerful being to exist on Earth.

An angry Kryptonian was thus deadlier. And by hurting a man that Kara cared so much about, Snow had made her very angry.

With her ears trained for the sounds of District 2, Kara finally came to a stop when she could hear the mechanical whirring of the factories of the technological District of Panem, indicating to her that she was near the District fence. She expertly slowed down, hovering in place for a second, before gently landing on the ground below her, with the foot, of a bent leg, to the ground, while the other knee and her fist touched the ground as well. Still on one knee, she looked up and around her, using her enhanced vision, scanning the vicinity for any unwanted eyes. Once sure that the forests were essentially as free from surveillance as they had always been, she got up and began walking towards the fence.

With every step she took, Kara could hear the sounds emanating from the district that lay in front of her getting louder. She could hear the buzz that District 2 was so known for, along with the constant humming of electricity that came from the District factory. She was close now. A minute went by, before she finally heard what she had been dreading all along.

Peacekeepers guarding the fence.

The District fence was usually almost always left unguarded. Technically, the fence was meant to protect the district, as well as the people living in it from wild animals that lived in the deeper parts of the forest. Owing to just how vast the forest was, there was never an open threat of people of the districts escaping into the wild either, for the ones who had tried to do so, over the years, had either ended up hopelessly lost, never to be seen again, or dead. That was why the fence had only two security factors associated with it. The board that said with big red lettering: ‘ _ District Boundary: No access beyond this point., _ ” and the electric charge that ran through the metal fence which was in practice, never live.

The peacekeepers of the Guard, however, saw things differently. It was their job to intimidate the people of the district. One of the main reasons that a Guard was ever set up in a district was to ensure that the people of said district could remain frightened and in check. It was why their very appearance was enough to force people to fall in line. This was ensured by positioning numerous peacekeepers throughout the common areas of the district, as well as near restricted territory. It was a way to give the entire place a frightening, disciplined atmosphere. Even though their guarding the fence provided no advantage from the security point of view, it was still enough to act as a reminder to all the people that the Guard was there. And therefore, they could not even think of disobeying the rules.

Kara walked until finally, the fence was in sight. Just as she had expected, she saw two peacekeepers standing near it. They both held their weapons in a defensive position, but from their posture, they appeared relaxed. It seemed that they knew, very well, that the only role they had was that of providing an intimidating front; like an elephant’s tusk: meant only for show, and not for usability. The headgear that was a standard uniform requirement for any peacekeeper, allowed for their faces to remain completely hidden. It was why, to any passer-by, they would appear eerily still. But Kara could hear them talking.

“How long do you reckon Thread will keep us here?” one of the armed men asked.

“Not for long, I hope,” the other man responded. “It’s freezing out here. Even my uniform isn’t enough to keep the cold out. I wish our uniforms came with sweaters.”

Kara continued to hear as a pointless banter broke out between the two peacekeepers on the other side of the fence, as she hoped for something, anything that could help her. She needed a flaw, a wrinkle that could help her reach his house in District 2’s Victor’s Village without being spotted. She had to cause a distraction in order to enter the district through the weak spot in the fence which she had already spotted was only a few metres from the first peacekeeper. To add to it, she needed to figure out a way to move through the district itself, avoiding both cameras and other peacekeepers that she could see were stationed all across the district.

After how her meeting with Rue’s family in District 11 had gone, Kara knew that she could not be reckless. She couldn't, under any circumstance, afford to be caught while in 2. She had already caused so much trouble. She couldn’t cause more harm. To add to it, a normal human couldn’t reach from 12 to 2 within a couple of minutes. She understood exactly what was on stake. It was why she had to be extra careful.

Just then, the snapping of a twig sounded from behind her, causing her to whip her head in its direction. It was dark. Kara therefore had to use her enhanced vision to see and look for the cause of disturbance. In the back of her mind, a voice warned her that someone was out there. That she was being followed. Just when she was about to make use of her X-ray vision, the words of one of the peacekeepers at the fence reached her ears.

“Just got an update from Weather. We are to expect a cold front due to a blizzard in the forest.”

“Great,” the other responded sarcastically. But Kara ignored him. Instead, she got up and began walking towards the fence, determinedly. When she was only a few metres away from the fence, close, but still hidden among the trees and bushes, she stopped. She took in a deep breath in preparation.

She had found the flaw.

* * *

It began a minute after the climate notification had been displayed on their holos.

Antonio and Clyde had been peacekeepers for over three years now. Though not nearly as experienced as some of the older members, they were considered as accomplished officers of the Security unit of Panem. It was why in their second year of service, they had been assigned to the Guard: the elite task force unit of the Peacekeepers of Panem. When a week ago, their squadron had received orders to prepare for a set up in one of the districts, both of them had been extremely pleased to learn that they were to be stationed in District 2. It was an honour in itself to be selected for the Guard. But to add to it, being stationed in such an important district was a sign of merit. It was an indication that the peacekeepers in their squadron had not only been through intense and advanced training, but had also proven themselves to be among the best.

But no amount of training could have prepared either of them for the deadly change in weather that had followed.

A minute after Antonio had read the blizzard update, they had noticed the drop in temperature. As he and Clyde had been stationed near the fence, they were the first ones to notice the cooling in the atmosphere, as well as the rush of the wind coming from the forest that lay behind the District fence. It had astonished Clyde how quickly the climate had changed, for weather reports from the Capitol often accurately predicted the weather hours before anything actually happened.

“There’s that blizzard,” Clyde said to Antonio, gesturing towards the forest. “Looks like my sweater idea was right after all.”

A minute went by, before strong winds began flowing, emanating from the forest and continuing on towards the interior parts of the district. Soon, the gusts increased in intensity. Strong winds became stronger, dropping the temperature significantly, as well as making it difficult for the two peacekeepers standing near the fence to hold their positions.

“That’s an intense blizzard!” Antonio exclaimed, nearly being pushed by the strong winds now. “Are we sure that the blizzard isn’t moving into the district itself?!”

“Looks like sweaters aren’t gonna do us any good anymore!” his colleague exclaimed, having to shout over the forceful, howling winds. Behind him, he saw as some of the trees began swaying a little violently, owing to the blizzard that was taking place somewhere deep in the forest. (What he failed to notice, was that only the trees in the front, near the fence were shaking. The ones in the back, it seemed, remained relatively unaffected.)

Just then, there came a sudden spike in wind speed. Both peacekeepers felt a strong vibration that travelled through the atmosphere. The blast of cold air hit them so hard that they were suddenly thrown off their feet and went flying back some distance inside the district, away from the fence. Before they knew it, they were both on the ground, owing to the sudden ambush by the wind, trying to recover. Antonio felt another rush of cool air to his side, but ignored both the sudden rush, as well as the blur that accompanied it. He was disoriented. He told himself that he had been knocked down by an extremely forceful breeze. Surely he needed a few minutes to recover.

Both peacekeepers remained on the snow-filled ground for a few minutes, taking deep breaths, trying to recover from the intense weather conditions. The wind was still blowing harshly. A few minutes passed before all of a sudden, the excessive breeze died down considerably. Now, the gales were still strong, but not enough to knock a person down. Slowly, steadily both peacekeepers tried to get up. 

“ _ Boundary, do you read? Over. _ ” Antonio’s communication device sounded over the howling breeze. He retrieved it from his pocket and clicked it on. “This is boundary patrol 1, go ahead, base. Over.” Antonio waited for instructions. 

_ “That was quite the squall huh?” _ the voice on the other end of the communication’s device spoke up.  _ “Report your status. Over.” _

Antonio looked over to Clyde who was still on the ground, struggling a little to get up after the wind had literally knocked him down. “Yeah, we’re okay here. We just got tipped over by the sudden gust. Over”

_ “Yeah, you’re not the only one. It turns out the blast hit everyone outside. It tipped over every person we’ve got positioned throughout the district.” _ The voice paused before continuing.  _ “I’ve got orders from Thread. The weather’s getting better now. We are to maintain positions. Confirm copy. Over.” _

Antonio sighed begrudgingly. He hated how their so-called Commander was making them work even in conditions as severe as these. Taking a deep breath, he finally spoke into his communication’s device for the final time that night.

“Boundary patrol confirms copy.” With that, he waited for the line to be clicked off before turning his own comm off and stowing it away.

* * *

Kara was kneeling in front of a mansion door, transfixed by something on the ground.

She was on the porch of a house in District 2’s Victor’s Village. She had kept her head down throughout and had hurried down the lane, looking for his house, trying to ensure that she could remain as hidden from the view of anyone on the streets as she could. Her ears were trained on any and every sound coming from the outer gates of the Village. Although a part of her was relieved that she had managed to reach his house, she knew the threat was far from over. She had to remain hidden. She was still not safe from being spotted.

Because the peacekeepers would recover soon.

Kara’s initial surveillance of the District from the other side of the fence had told her that the entire District appeared quite isolated. She had realized that the reason for this was that, of the many restrictions that the Guard usually enforced upon a district, one of the prominent conditions was setting up a curfew. That meant that no citizen of the district could be seen out after dark. That meant that the only people that were allowed to remain outside throughout the night, the only people that were outside even in the dark, were the peacekeepers.

Kara had realized that that meant she had to come up with a way to distract if not every peacekeeper outside, then at least all of those who were stationed directly in the path that she needed to take to get from the fence to Victor’s Village. She had to cause something so big that it would momentarily incapacitate every peacekeeper in her way. Something that would disorient them long enough for her to speed her way to his house.

That was when she had heard the weather report.

Blizzards were known to cause extreme weather conditions. They could go from mild to severe within seconds and could thus take everyone by surprise, even the advanced forecasting devices that the Capitol used for weather predictions. She had suddenly been struck with an idea, a plan that could help her reach her destination.

She had quickly risen from the ground and hovered in place at a height nearly half of that of the tall trees around her. She had surveyed the area in front of her and had worked through the details of her plan. A minute later, the execution began, as Kara took in a deep breath and blew icy air all throughout the area in front of her.

She had controlled her freeze-breath to such an extent, that rather than freezing every single thing that lay in its path, it only caused a significant drop in the temperature. Soon enough, the neighbouring area was entirely filled with cold air. She blew a little forcefully now, causing not only the temperature to drop further, but also for a gust of wind to rush towards the district. The wind slowly picked up pace. She had observed how it had affected the two peacekeepers by the fence, as they had begun being pushed back by the wind now. She had continued the process until finally, the wind was strong enough that the peacekeepers had to fight their way through it to even keep standing, but not enough to tip them over.

That was when Kara had implemented the final part of her plan. Landing gracefully on her feet, she had stood in place for a second, preparing herself. She had then made use of a trick that she had learned when she had been just a young girl. She had stood in a defensive stance, pulling her arms back just a little, she had used all her strength and swiftly brought both her hands together and banged them against each other. The moment her palms had touched, a vibration of extremely high intensity emanated from them and the wave travelled all the way towards the district. It was essentially a ‘super-sonic clap.' It had caused not only the peacekeepers near the fence to be knocked over, but also every peacekeeper stationed throughout the district to meet the same fate.

As soon as they had fallen, Kara had rushed forward with superhuman speed. She had rushed through the fence and hadn’t stopped until she had side-stepped a peacekeeper who had fallen on the ground, right next to the outer gates of Victor’s Village. Once inside, she had continued to rush with super-speed, trying to spot his house out of the many houses that the Victor’s Village here contained. She had kept moving until she had suddenly spotted exactly what she had been looking for. A large mansion, similar in construction to all the houses in the area, with the number ‘74’ etched above the front doors. Kara had instantly stepped in the opening and had rushed up the few stone steps that led to the front door. But the moment she had reached the top step, something had caught her eye.

She could hear the peacekeepers starting to regain their semblance. She knew they would get up, shake it off, and resume their patrols soon. She needed to remain hidden, to disappear from view before they spotted her. With that, she kept her head down and breathed slowly, trying to calm her rapid heartbeat. But no matter how much she tried to explain the urgency to herself, she could not get her legs to move and knock on the door just a few feet in front of her. She was transfixed, lost because of something on the floor.

The porch was filled entirely with snow. To add to it, since it was already dark, it had been slightly difficult to spot, nearly impossible for a human. But Kara saw it. She stared at it for a few seconds, focussing on it until she could see it clearly. It was a drop of red. Diminished now due to the snow, but still there. When Kara had suddenly realized what it was, she had lost her ability to move altogether.

Just then, the door in front of her opened. She looked up and was met with the anxious eyes of an older woman. Kara was frozen in place. She stared at the woman in front of her, who stared back intensely. Kara suddenly recognized the reluctant animosity in the woman’s eyes. She could see pain in her fatigued look. She realized that it was her fault. Her suffering was Kara’s doing. 

Just like that a part of her resolve shattered. As she stood there, frozen, her mind blanked out on what she could do. A voice in the back of her head told her. ‘There was nothing to do.’ She had hurt this woman. She had caused her entire district to suffer. Kara realized that in that moment, she was ready to surrender. She was half ready for the woman in front of her to report her to the authorities herself. The victor from 12 had caused enough destruction. She had caused enough harm already. She deserved to be reported.

“Get in, quickly!” the woman exclaimed in a hushed voice, as she stepped a little to the side, gesturing for Kara to enter. Kara, taken aback a little, stood in place for another half second. Instinctively, Kara could hear that the peacekeepers near the gate had recovered from the blow now. They would patrol the streets of the Village any minute now. The realization was what finally allowed her to register the woman’s permission to enter her home. That was when she finally commanded her legs to step in through the door frame, carefully avoiding the drop of Mon El’s blood on the porch.

* * *

As soon as she stepped through, Kara stood behind Rhea in the entrance corridor while the older woman leaned out the door and inspected the streets. Once sure that none of the neighbouring houses had seen her guest, she quickly but quietly closed the door shut. The faint click of the lock sounded just as far away, two peacekeepers entered through the main gates and into the streets of the Village.

Kara stood behind Rhea, an awkward silence settling in the corridor. As Rhea turned, she looked at Kara directly in the eyes. Kara could see the animosity again. She could see the dislike that this woman had for her. Kara couldn’t blame her. After all the trouble that Kara had caused Rhea’s family, her disapproval of Kara being here was more than justified. It was why Kara had half expected her to send her away. To not let her anywhere near her son. But to Kara’s own surprise, Rhea hadn’t done any of it. Instead, she had welcomed her in, given her refuge from the peacekeepers.

They stood in place for a minute more, when all of a sudden, Kara heard a whimper coming from the room behind her. The moment she turned, Kara felt as though her lungs had forgotten to breathe. She struggled to move, to breathe as she stared at the slumbering form of the man in front of her. She doubted her own vision, but realized that she was indeed fully awake. This wasn’t a nightmare. This was real.

Numbly, Kara walked into the front room, all the while staring at the man and his bruised back. His head was tilted to the side while his eyes were shut, a pained expression adorning his face. He was lying on his chest on a mattress that had been placed on a table, while his back was neatly bandaged. An ordinary appearing lamp shed concentrated light on his back. For the longest time, Kara had stared at him. She studied the pain on his face, the bruises on his back. She had difficulty blinking, afraid that the moment she would close her eyes, his condition would somehow worsen. The only solace she had was the steady rise and fall of his chest that told her that he was still alive, still breathing. Instinctively, she had tuned her hearing to his rhythmic heartbeat as a way to fill the bitter silence, as a way to clear off the voice in her head that reminded her constantly of the guilt that she felt. Because not only had she caused this,

She had not been there for him either.

All of a sudden, Mon El let out another whimper, as a look of pain covered his face. The sound pulled Kara out of her thoughts, as she instantly tried to identify the cause of pain. Standing near the table, she scanned his back for any piece of lead that might have remained in contact with his skin. Once she was sure that that wasn’t the case, she realized that the pain was simply an effect of the strain that his body had endured due to the whipping. A part of her realized just how helpless she felt. It reminded her of how she had felt similarly once, when she had been in the arena. She ignored the memory before it could form properly in her mind. She had to focus right now. She couldn’t be consumed by hopelessness right when she needed hope the most.

That was when Kara noticed the tremor in his hand.

His hand lay lifelessly on the edge of the mattress, shaking a little with every breath he took. Without a second thought, Kara settled down on the chair that lay next to the table. She took his hand in her own and held on. 

“It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay,” she whispered reassurances, although whether they were meant for him, or to convince herself, she wasn’t sure.

She had a lot to be sorry for. She had a lot of guilt she needed to deal with. But that could wait. All of it could wait. He came first. With that, she held on to his hand and simply sat there, studying the slight pain on his face, looking for any sign of distress, ready to jump into action the moment his condition worsened.

Standing outside the door frame, Rhea studied the concern on Kara’s face. She could see a determination in this girl that she had experienced herself when it had come to protecting her family. A few seconds passed, before she decided that her son was completely safe in the girl’s company. She would protect him above all else. With that, Rhea quietly left the two of them alone.

* * *

‘The sun would rise soon,’ Kara thought, idly.

She wasn’t sure exactly how long it had been, but going by how the golden specks of light were now beginning to enter through the front room window, causing her to slowly open her eyes and squint, she could tell that she had been sitting here all night. As she blinked away the sleep in her own eyes, she realized that at some point, she had fallen asleep in the chair itself. She blinked a few times, rubbing the sleep away, before checking on him yet again. 

He looked a little more peaceful now. The pain was there, but reduced somewhat. She looked down at his hand securely in hers, and couldn’t help but smile just a little. There was a certain peace, a serenity that she felt in that moment, for she realized, for the first time in hours, that he would be okay. With the first light of the day came hope. Hope that she had so needed.

She slowly brushed away the hairs from his face and lightly touched the scar on his cheek. It was a reminder of what she had caused. Of how he had suffered because of her.

Just then, Mon El stirred awake. His eyes fluttered as Kara quickly withdrew her hand and looked at him with concern. She observed as he struggled to open his eyes fully, but quickly realized that he couldn’t. Instead, he looked at her with half-lidded eyes.

The moment his eyes met hers, Kara’s mind was flooded with relief along with a feeling that she couldn’t quite describe. The worry that had been clouding her mind lessened, as she saw that the man that she cared for so much, who, she realized, she couldn’t bear to think of losing, was finally awake. It was reassurance that he was alive. That he would get better.

“Hey,” Mon El said in a hoarse voice, barely a whisper.

“Hey,” Kara replied, noticing how shaky her own voice had become.

Mon El stared at her for a few seconds, his brows knitting in confusion. Kara stared back with concern.

“Did you… learn a new power where you can duplicate yourself?” Mon El finally asked. “Cause I’m seeing two of you. It’s really cool.”

Kara blinked in confusion, taken aback by his question. At first she thought that he was genuinely confused. That he was disoriented. But then, she noticed the tinge of a smile on his lips. That was when she understood. The injured man in front of her, the Daxamite was actually making a joke. Even though he had just woken up, even in the condition that he was in, he was still trying to be amusing.

Kara couldn’t believe it. She wanted to tell him that he was not at all funny. That she had been worried sick ever since last night. But before any of those words could escape her mouth, her lips involuntarily spread into a small smile. She realized the cause to be relief. Relief that he was awake. Relief that he was trying to lighten the atmosphere, for it was an indication that he would be okay. That was why, rather than reminding him of the severity of his condition, she played along, as she replied with, “No, sorry. Now new powers.” Pointing at his eyes, she said, “I think the double vision’s all you” a bit of amusement in her voice.

“Oh so I have the new powers?” he asked with raised eyebrows, with a faux seriousness in his tone. He paused a little before continuing. 

“I missed you," he said in a tired yet sincere voice. 

Kara paused for a moment, the smile on her face diminishing just a little. “Me too," she replied with a sincerity matching his own. 

She realized that for the first time since she had seen him get hurt, Kara had smiled. (‘In fact,' she thought to herself, ‘this was the first time in months. Ever since the goodbye at least...'). It brought to mind their farewell. 

The moment of relief that Kara felt upon seeing him joking was short lived, however, for as he tried to move even a little from his position, he winced in pain.

“How do you feel?” she asked in a worried tone, the smile gone now, replaced instantly with a look of intense concern.

Mon El tried to take in a deep breath, but failed as it flared up the pain in his back and settled for a short breath instead. “Well,” he replied. “My back kinda hurts, but other than that I’m fine!”

Kara huffed as she realized how ‘his back kinda hurts,’ was perhaps the understatement of the century. 

“I gotta say though,” he continued with his eyes half closed, in a tired voice, “I do feel better with you here.”

“I think that has a little less to do with me, and a little more to do with the herbs I brought,” Kara spoke hurriedly. “Alura used to grow them in our old garden.”

Mon El paused for a few seconds before replying with, “Remind me to thank Alura for giving you a reason to visit.”

Kara understood exactly what he was referring to. She fell silent, as she realized how this was the first time she was even seeing him for months. She was instantly reminded of how she had decided for them to stay away. How she had hurt him that day in order to do so. A part of her tried to argue, meekly, that she was trying to protect him. But it quickly fell quiet with one look at him now.

Because the truth was that no matter how hard she had tried, she had messed up. She had pushed him away when he had tried to be there for her. She had reasoned with herself that it was for the best, that she was staying away to keep him safe. But now, even that explanation had failed. Now, because of her decision, she hadn’t been able to be there for him. He had been punished for her mistakes. And now, he was suffering because of her.

“I’m sorry,” she suddenly whispered. “This is all my fault.”

“Kara-”

He began to speak but his words were drowned away by the guilt that resonated in her mind. Instead, she continued apologizing. “I should’ve seen this coming. I should’ve warned you about Snow, and I-” She was nearly in tears now. “I was afraid. I couldn't let what happened to Krypton happen here too. I was trying to protect you but I... I should have told you what he said that night after the party at his mansion, about what he wanted… I could’ve warned you about this, about him. He’s the reason you are in so much pain and he’s the reason that I can’t do anything about it.” She took in a shaky breath.

Mon El remained quiet for a few minutes, as he simply looked at the sad, broken alien in front of him. A few more minutes went by before he finally spoke up. 

“You know you look… beautiful? Even with… The weight of all these worlds on your shoulders.”

Kara froze as she registered his words. She suddenly realized what he was trying to do, what he had been trying to do all this time. Everything made sense, as she realized that even though he was in a dazed state. He was probably in immense pain even now. He was barely awake, barely conscious. 

And even in that, he was trying to make her feel better.

Kara felt overwhelmed. She felt a wave of emotions that filled her mind. She tried to make sense of all her feelings but found that she couldn’t, for she suddenly felt the intensity of the countless emotions that she had been feeling for the past month. The acute concern she had felt and had been feeling from the moment she had watched the footage of the whipping, the guilt that she had felt owing to how she considered herself responsible for his suffering, the fear that she had experienced when she had actually seen him for the first time in months, only for him to be lying unconscious and in pain when she had first reached here last night, the intense relief the moment he had opened his eyes. Everything came rushing to her mind as she felt overwhelmed by it all. The unfamiliar feeling from before was back now, as she realized just how much he cared for her. She grasped the magnitude of her own feelings for him. She simply sat there, dumbfounded by his response. Dumbfounded by the swirl of emotions that reigned over her mind, her heart. She quickly found that she couldn’t think of anything anymore. 

So, she acted on instinct.

Slowly, she leaned in. She gripped his hand a little tighter while bringing her face close to his. She remained there for a second, studying his face intently, caressing it before intuitively, she closed the distance between them and kissed him. Mon El, surprised at first, soon recovered from it and reciprocated with a sedate pace. In that moment, Kara felt a flutter in her heart. She could feel the turmoil of emotions that had taken over her mind only seconds ago, fade away into nothing, for nothing else mattered in that moment. All that mattered was that he was here, they were here. In that one moment, she felt something that she hadn’t felt in months. She felt hope.

When she pulled back, she noticed how Mon El looked even more tired than before now. He tried to keep his eyes open for as long as possible, but failed. “Absolutely beautiful.” he whispered.

Kara faced him with a short smile, as the onslaught of emotions returned. “Get some rest,” she said, not letting out the chaos that she felt in her mind now. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“I’d like that,” Mon El mumbled, before quickly falling unconscious yet again. 

Kara remained seated in the chair for a long time after that. She tried to make sense of what had happened, but the multitude of emotions she felt caused her to fail yet again. So she decided against it. She simply sat there, with his hand in hers, trying her level best to calm the storm in her mind. 

A chaos had ensued, as she realized how she felt everything that she had been feeling before, but with even more intensity now. Everything seemed heightened. The fear, the relief, the concern and the guilt. Concern overpowered her. She could feel guilt with a renewed clarity. As she watched the steady rise and fall of his back, she realized just how much he meant to her. How he had become a ray of hope for her. One that she needed to keep safe. She realized how a part of her, a major part, was afraid now, more so than before. Afraid of losing him, of hurting him. Because as much as she hated it, she knew the harsh truth. Kara knew exactly what happened to the people that she cared about. Those that she wished to protect.

After all, she had experienced it in the arena herself.

She needed some air. She needed to get rid of the strong wave of guilt that came with thoughts about the arena. Thoughts that she had buried deep down ever since she had returned. She had tried her level best to cast them away, to forget them. But she hadn’t forgotten. She could never forget. The memories were there, haunting her, threatening to overwhelm her. With that, she suddenly got up. Gently placing his hand back on the mattress, she silently walked out of the room, careful not to wake him.

She stood in the entrance corridor with her hand on the door knob, taking deep breaths to calm herself, but failing. Her eyes were closed as she tried to will herself to relax. But the turmoil in her heart was only growing now. She could feel the walls around her closing. She needed to get out of here. She was about to open the door when,

“You’re leaving?”

Kara turned to find a young girl standing behind her. She instantly recognized her. From the way she spoke, from the way she stood, the concern that shone in her eyes, Kara knew exactly who this was. Even though Kara had never met this girl before, she could recognize her from how her loving brother had described her.

Kara recognized the worry in Maya’s eyes. She was afraid. Afraid that Kara would leave again. That she would hurt him again, cause him pain all over again. Kara could see it clearly in her eyes. She didn’t blame Maya. To Kara, her concern was perfectly valid.

But it was not true, for Kara would never let him get hurt ever again.

With that, Kara kneeled in front of Maya, coming down to her height and looked at her directly in the eyes. She held her by the shoulders. “I will come back.” Although her voice cracked a little, sincerity shone through it, as she said, “I swear, I will come back. I just need to take care of some things, but I promise I'll be back after that, okay?”

Only when Maya was convinced, and nodded at her, did Kara finally get up and leave.

Sneaking past the peacekeepers was easier during the day, for the streets were relatively crowded now. But Kara barely noticed the commotion around her, for the chaos in her own mind was all she could focus on, as she rushed through the district towards the fence. Her heart was full of emotions too muddled to comprehend. The flutter in her heart and the guilt in her mind fused together to create an emotion so strong that she could barely take it anymore. Voices laced with accusations filled her mind. One voice stood prominently even in all the chaos.  _ ‘For the sake of those you wish to protect.' _ She had tried. Tried to protect. Tried to defend. But every time she had failed. And every time, the people that she cared about had had to suffer. The guilt was there now, burning through her intensely. As soon as she was out of the district’s vicinity and in the forest, she launched into the air with inhuman strength and flew with immense speed towards home.

* * *

Henry was returning from his morning stroll when he noticed something peculiar.

The door to the room of fallen tributes was left ajar. It was usually locked, Henry had always ensured of it. ‘Then why was it open?’ he thought as he quickly made his way towards the building. As he reached the door, he pushed it in and entered.

That was when he saw her.

The room was still a little dark, the only source of light being the sunlight that crept in through the windows. But her face could be seen clearly. The agony shone with clarity on her distraught face. She was facing the wall on the side. He noticed how she was staring at a photograph on the wall. Henry didn’t need to look to know whose picture it was.

“Kara?” Henry called out in concern.

She remained silent for a few stretched seconds, before finally responding. “Why can’t I protect them?” her voice was shaky, strained, as though she was holding back her tears. “Why do the people I care about always suffer?”

Henry watched, worried, as he noticed how Kara didn’t even turn as she spoke. She was continuing to stare into the eyes of the little girl whose picture was hung on the wall. She was standing still, but the turmoil in her mind was making it increasingly difficult not to break down. 

“Rue was my responsibility,” she continued. “I was supposed to protect her. To save her. And I-” Kara tried but couldn’t even utter the words she wanted to say next. She took in a shaky breath and stared at Rue, her big brown eyes reminding her of the girl’s final moments in the arena. Of the incidents that had taken place moments before Rue’s final moments in the arena. Of the circumstances that had led to Rue’s final moments in the arena.

“I killed her.”

Instantly, her walls broke. Instantly, she couldn't stay steady anymore. The tears she had been holding back ever since she had come back from the arena came rushing down, for they could not be held back anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Points to- OH MY GOD I'M SO SORRY FOR THIS!!!  
> 1\. The part where she lands: My best attempt at describing a 'superhero landing'   
> 2\. Super-Sonic Clap baby!!!! Oh my goodness I an so in love with that scene. I have tried my best to describe it, but to anyone who hasn't seen the Crisis on Earth X episode, PLEASE watch that scene!!   
> Here's the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DqTlGxP2ZJU  
> 3\. There is animosity between Rhea and Kara... One of the many ways of saying I MISS SEASON 2! Another parallel was when she X-ray vision scans him for lead.  
> 4\. I am truly bad when it comes to writing a kiss, as it turns out! I apologize...! I can totally understand if you want to forget that awkwardly written part and remember just one thing... They Kissed!  
> 5\. As I have mentioned before, I feel that Kara has been burying her emotions and how she felt about everything that happened in the arena. She had built walls around those memories, never mentioning them to anyone. But seeing Mon El in that condition was a blow to said walls. So, as horrible as the ending may seem, what happened was actually a good thing. She needs to let it all out if she wants to begin healing from it.
> 
> Thank You for Reading!  
> Until Next Time!


	11. A Mother Knows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It wasn't your fault."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mother Knows Best!

The walls haunted her.

As Alura rushed with muted footsteps along the vast, carpeted corridors of the Victor’s mansion, she couldn’t help but think how much she despised this place. Though luxurious, the house had felt anything but comfortable ever since the moment they had set foot in it. The grandeur, the style, the overall lack of warmth caused the construct to exude a cold, unwelcoming atmosphere. It was intimidating, to say the least. To be retrieved from the common poverty that their family had become so used to, over the years, and shoved into sudden riches that the Capitol only provided to ensure that they could exercise a certain control over their lives, was an experience Alura found to be awful.

Everything seemed foreign, alien even. Nothing felt familiar. It was as though stepping into an unknown world altogether. To the common eye, it may have seemed as though Kara Zorel had won the Games and so, won for her family, all the comforts and luxuries that came with being a victor. It may have seemed that in just one moment, the Zorel’s had become extremely fortunate, lucky even. But their reality, not unlike that of the families of almost every district in Panem, was far from fortunate. Nothing was ever as it seemed.

But even that wasn’t the worst aspect of this place. Unfamiliarity could be forgotten with time. People could grow used to foreign with time. It wasn’t the reason Alura held such strong dislike for this place. Rather, it was the very purpose for which this house existed. The meaning that it had. The reason that the Zorel’s had been given permission and authority over the walls of this mansion was one that Alura absolutely despised. She loathed the purpose of the Victor’s mansion. She regretted its consequences.

For, the mansion was a result of the events of the 74th Annual Hunger Games.

It was because of those events, that her beloved daughter had faced hell. Why she had lived through a nightmare that neither Kara nor her family could ever hope to forget. Every moment that Alura spent in this mansion, only served as a reminder of those horrid moments. Memories, when she had been forced to watch her daughter on the holo screen. When the Capitol had demanded her to watch the suffering, the adversities that Kara had faced inside the arena. Those moments, she recalled, truly had been devoid of hope of any kind. It was in those moments that Alura had felt as helpless as she had ever been in all her life, for there was nothing she could have done, to make things better for Kara inside the arena. She had spent each and every day that the Games had lasted with nothing but concern in her mind and fear in her heart. Fear had become a norm. 

Worse still, were the moments that had followed Kara’s return. 

When her daughter had finally come home, Alura had observed the change. She had witnessed the seemingly trivial differences in Kara’s behaviour. She was afraid now. A lot more than she had been in her entire life on this planet. When the world had celebrated the victorious return of Kara Zorel, the victor from District 12, Alura had witnessed reality. She had taken note of the pain that now resided permanently in her eyes. It was as though a part of her had been lost; left behind in the horrid arena. And no matter what Alura did, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t bring her back. On the day of the Reaping, Alura had bid farewell to her daughter, her ray of sunshine. That Kara had never returned home.

A hollow version of Kara was all that these walls had seen. They had been there when Kara had panicked due to even the slightest of sounds, or when she had cried herself to sleep. The mansion had quickly become a storehouse of sleepless nights and painful fear. There were no happy memories here, for this wasn’t the house that had seen when Kara had first learned to speak a Terran language. It had never seen the happiness in the air, when Kara had first learned how to control her powers enough not to hurt a feeble human. It hadn’t been there when Kara had fully and gratefully accepted the Zorel’s as her family. 

This house had only seen fear. These walls had only heard her screams.

It was why Alura was rushing across the corridor in the middle of the night. Her daughter's screams were reverberating all across the house. Screams coming from her room. Screams, indicating nothing but pain and agony. She was hurt. She was suffering. It was all Alura could think of, as she finally reached the doors of her room and pushed them open.

What she saw inside broke Alura’s heart.

Kara was shaking. She was breathing rapidly, panickedly. Clutching her head in her hands, she was trying her best not to cry. But the moment Alura had entered, the sound of the door had pulled Kara away from her reverie. She looked at her worried mother, the concern showing clearly in Alura’s eyes. But before she could say anything, Kara instantly replied.

“I’m sorry,” she said panting slightly. “It was just a dream.”

In that moment, a peculiar look crossed Alura’s face. Though concern and worry still clouded her eyes, there was something else. Kara observed, as her Earth-mother hesitated, as though trying to decide whether or not to say what she wanted to say, but ultimately decided against it. Instead, she simply nodded, as Kara recognized the defeat in her posture. Kara understood. She was disappointed herself. Because no matter how much they tried, Kara could never go back to the way things were, back when Kara would allow for Alura to simply be there for her.

Just as Alura turned dejectedly, to leave,

“Mom.” Kara called out.

Alura turned instantly, painfully aware of just how frail her daughter’s voice had become. She looked at Kara, waiting for her to continue.

Kara took in a deep breath, before she uttered the words that Alura had been waiting to hear, ever since her daughter had returned from the arena, ever since the nightmares had begun.

“Will you stay with me?” Kara asked in a somewhat shaky voice.

That was all it took. After months of watching, helplessly as Kara had continued to suffer, Alura had tried her best, but failed to get Kara to ask for help. Now, she finally was. Now, Alura could finally feel hopeful again. Now she could finally be there for her daughter.

“Of course,” Alura whispered in a calm, soothing voice and quickly walked over to the bed.

As soon as Alura was near, Kara embraced her. She exercised control over herself, but just enough to ensure that she didn’t hurt Alura by accident. As they hugged, Kara realized, for the first time in months, she could actually feel a slight, familiar shred of relief. Like there was hope that her problems could go away.

As Alura settled on the bed besides her, Kara quickly settled down on Alura’s lap. As she felt her mother slowly brushing her hair with her hand, she could feel her fear dissolving away. Sleep came relatively quickly after that.

‘Everything was okay now,’ was her final thought as she slipped into a peaceful slumber.

* * *

Nothing was okay.

Not according to Effie, at least. Nothing short of chaos reigned over Kara Zorel’s victor’s mansion, as numerous people rushed about the house rearranging items, dusting and trying to make last minute changes to their so-called ‘set’ which, today, was essentially the entire house itself. Kara was standing near the far end of the living room, as she observed the team of designers sent from the Capitol, running around like headless chicken, joined by Effie, who, not unlike nearly every single time that they had shot an interview, was already in a panicked mode. 

The usual rush all around the house was even more so today, for, today’s interview was part of a District-wide celebration. It was District Day today in the Science District of Panem and so, this year, the Capitol had very generously decided to broadcast the many festivities happening in the district all throughout the week. It was a new experience for every citizen of 12, for never before had they been showered with such attention, in order to celebrate a day that no one could even remember before today. Kara had been told that it was a big deal. It was why the interview for today was extremely important. It was why the commotion in her house was of an increased intensity. To an outsider, the commotion would make it seem as though the program would begin in a few minutes, some seconds even. But Kara was far too familiar with it all, to know that all of it was in fact in preparation for an interview that was to take place in five hours.

Kara huffed in irritation.

She couldn’t believe that she had to stay here, that she had stayed at home all throughout last week for something as foolish as this. The sole purpose of these interviews, this celebration, as she had learned early on, was to ensure that Kara Zorel, the victor of the 74th Annual Hunger Games could remain in the minds of people, from both the Capitol and especially the Districts. It was to showcase how District 12 was fully basking in the glory of being the Victor’s District this year, while every other district, including the one that had won along with 12, could do nothing but watch and suffer. No matter how trivial, how absolutely ridiculous Kara found the utter importance that her interviews were given, she had to remain present for them. She had to stay inside the house right from the moment all of this had begun. Effie had even reached 12 an entire week early just to ensure she could prep Kara and rehearse with her for her many appearances during the celebration. 

And since Effie had been staying as a guest in Kara’s mansion itself, that meant that Kara had been forced to stay in the house and prepare for the ridiculous celebration the entire time.

It hadn’t bothered her much before. She had almost always been fine with most of it, for every interview that she had been forced to give before this. Usually, she would simply put on a facade, a mask that would hide her true opinions about all the festivities around her and help her get through the day. But today, she was finding it more difficult than ever to not get openly irritated. Today, she couldn’t help but stare angrily at all the people from the Capitol that were in her house, wishing she could kick them out the door. Before, the frustration was somewhat bearable. But not today.

Because unlike before, today she felt like she wanted to be somewhere else.

It had been nearly a month since the holos inside Kara’s victor mansion had turned on on their own accord and she had watched as the Guard had been set up in District 2. A month since Kara had been punished for five seconds worth of footage of a painting of Rue that had accidentally been aired owing to a mistake that the team of interior designers in-charge of the interviews had made. A month since Kara had watched someone she cared about get hurt because of it all. 

Mon El’s back had healed at an excruciatingly slow pace. Kara had realized that owing to the increased and repeated exposure to lead that the whipping had caused, his enhanced healing had been affected, while his otherwise invincible skin had endured quite a lot of damage, owing to which, it had taken him even longer than what would be required for a human, to recover from the injuries. 

Kara had been with him through it all. She had set up quite a system after the first time she had been there. Just like she had promised Maya, she had been there that very evening and every evening ever since. She would sneak into the district in the evening, when it was crowded enough, safe enough to walk past the many peacekeepers that stood guard throughout the district, and would leave early in the morning, thus ensuring neither those in District 2, nor those in 12 would suspect anything. She had done so for nearly the entire month, ensuring above all, the safety of those she interacted with during the entire process. She had always remained careful approaching his house in Victor’s Village, ensuring that the Roqford’s had no visitors when she went, or at least that they couldn’t catch even a glimpse of her whenever she was there. It was why she had always reached the house by late evenings, and left before either of the people from the neighbouring houses could come and visit. Nobody had even the faintest idea of her presence throughout it all.

Unfortunately, neither did Mon El.

The first two weeks, he had been far too tired, far too unconscious to take note of the presence of anyone around him at all. After that, owing to exhaustion, along with the herbs that Kara had brought from home, that did heal him quicker, but also caused drowsiness as a side effect, he had remained in a drowsy, barely conscious state throughout the day. That had been until five days ago, when Kara had noticed that Mon El had finally been sleeping peacefully on his back. The bandages had been replaced with proper clothes, while the ordinary looking lamp, which Kara had soon learned from Maya was actually a yellow sun lamp, useful for creating and giving off radiation of the yellow sun, had been stowed away. Kara had smiled a little upon seeing the peace on his face as he had been sleeping. She had realized that maybe, she could finally meet him, talk to him the following morning or even the following day.

The Capitol, however, had had different plans for her. 

“A week-long celebration?" Rhea had asked. When Kara had last visited 2, it had been to let Rhea know about the hectic itinerary that the Capitol had sent over to her house for the celebration in District 12.

“Yeah," Kara had replied dejectedly. “And Effie's arriving a week early to help me prepare for the interviews so that’s two weeks that I can’t hope to step out of the house.”

They stood in silence, as Rhea considered her words. After a while, Rhea spoke up. “Well, I think you should see him before you leave,” she said, gesturing to the front room. “I’m sure he’ll wanna see you himself.”

“No,” Kara quickly responded. “He’s asleep, I really shouldn’t wake him.” She paused a little, as though debating whether or not to talk to him one final time before her two ‘fabulous’ weeks with Effie began, but quickly decided against it. She finally exhaled, as she said, “I think I should get going, anyway. I only came here to tell you that I won’t be able to visit for the next couple of days. Effie’s train arrives in an hour, so I should probably head on home.”

Rhea had nodded, a little reluctantly, as Kara had made her through the corridor and towards the door. She was about to open the door, when Rhea had called out from behind, prompting Kara to turn.

“Thank you,” Rhea had said, sincerely. But Kara hadn't understood the reason for it. She felt there to be no cause for Rhea to thank her. If anything, the woman should never have let her into the house at all. Kara had caused such suffering to Rhea's home district. How could she ever repay her for the generosity that she had showered on her?

There hadn't been time to answer that question, for she had quickly left in a hurry that day.

Kara huffed in frustration. ‘Yup,’ she thought to herself. ‘This was life now.’ She looked to the side and spotted the numerous food items that had been placed neatly on a table at one end of the living room. ‘Well, at least there was food.’

“Coffees for everybody!” a voice exclaimed, causing everyone in the living room to turn and look towards the entrance corridor. Juggling two disposable coffee trays in hand, the newcomer made his way through the vast living room, handing everyone he passed a paper cup filled with the drink. Kara observed, as this bubbling, highly enthusiastic for coffee guy finally reached Scott, the interior designer with the broken arm.

“And for you, sir,” the newcomer smiled warmly at the designer, who was looking at the guy with knitted brows.

Accepting the cup, he finally asked, “And who are you, exactly?”

“Oh, My name's Mike Matthews. I’m one of the interns sir,” the man replied promptly. “We were sent from the Capitol to help out with the arrangements and everything here. You know, for the entire celebration?”

The designer eyed the man for a few seconds, almost suspiciously, which caused the man to adjust his glasses, as though it were a nervous habit, and stand in near awkward silence. Finally, after a few long seconds, the designer spoke up. “Well, there must be something wrong here,” he said. It was now the intern’s turn to knit his brows. A moment passed, before the designer finally continued.

“I specifically asked that I be the handsomest guy on set!” he exclaimed.

The intern beamed at him, almost a little sheepishly, as he commented, “Why that’s awfully charming.” Scott, on the other hand, appeared quite proud of himself for coming up with the joke. 

“But, in all seriousness,” he continued, still smiling at the intern, “we could use all the help we can get, I mean.. Look at this place,” he gestured around him. “We have so much work, and so little time!” he concluded in a nearly exasperated, almost dramatic tone. 

From a corner of the room, Kara rolled her eyes. She still had trouble getting used to just how much pretense the people of the Capitol could showcase. It still unnerved her a little, that victor interviews and pointless celebrations were given more priority than the actual welfare of the people of the Districts. The fact that the Capitol was actually sending in interns was more than enough to add to her shock regarding the sheer importance that they gave to such inconsequential tasks.

She realized the longer she thought about the notion, the angrier she got. She therefore quickly headed towards the buffet and took a bite out of a powdered donut, her ears still picking up on the conversation between the two idiots from the Capitol.

“Yes, sir, I completely understand,” the intern replied, “Truth be told, I’m so excited to just jump in and get a hands on experience at show-making. I mean, it’s a wonderful opportunity for me. After all, I will be learning from some of the best in the business. Legends in show-making, if you will,” he said, as Scott’s already proud face filled up with even more pride, his level of ego boosting with the compliment.

This time, Kara rolled her eyes so hard, she was afraid she might actually faint. ‘Legends in show-making?’ she thought to herself, sarcastically. ‘Really?!’ She took another bite out of her donut, as she observed the newcomer scornfully. Rather than the outlandish attire that people from the Capitol usually preferred to wear, this man was dressed in relatively simple clothing, along with a ridiculous bow-tie. He wore square-framed glasses and what appeared to be a permanent, enthusiastic smile on his face. As she noticed his eyes, however, she knitted her brows a little. 

“There you are!” 

Kara was suddenly pulled out of her thoughts as Effie came rushing by and halted abruptly near her. Snatching the donut from her hand, she continued in a somewhat panicked voice. “You can’t be eating a donut right now, you’ll get sugar all over your mouth!” she exclaimed. Before Kara could respond, however, Effie was already dragging her towards the make-up room, mumbling about how she had to be ready as the show started in no less than three hours.

‘This was life now,’ Kara felt miserable

* * *

For the first time since that morning, she was finally alone.

It had taken almost an hour, but only after her prep team had declared that she was ready, was she finally allowed some free time for a few minutes. The moment she had escaped the clutches of the make-up room, convincing Effie with great difficulty that leaving her unsupervised would not result in any changes to her look, Kara had decided to head away from the room. Trying to put as much distance between herself and a frantic Effie, Kara rushed in the direction of the one place she knew she could spend some time peacefully in.

She pushed the heavy-set doors of the Art Room and entered the isolated place.

The room was filled entirely by paintings that Kara had created herself. The walls had entirely been decorated with frames, while the same was true for most of the space on the ground as well. The furniture of the room had been removed, making space for frames and canvases of paintings that the victor of the 74th Annual Hunger Games had created. 

Kara looked around and observed every painting one after the other. They were mostly landscapes, some like those that could be seen on Earth, while others that Terrans may have never seen before in their lives. To the entire world, Kara’s works were mainly a result of her imagination. They had no resemblance to reality. But the truth was far from it. Because every scenery that Kara had painted, the numerous scenes that she had depicted in her paintings were not a result of imagination. Rather, they were fueled by memories. Memories of worlds that she had visited when she had been a child. Of places that existed in the universe, but the people of Earth were blissfully unaware of.

“These paintings are amazing.” 

Suddenly, a voice from behind her, caused her to turn instantly.

Kara stood taken aback as she saw whom the voice belonged to. It was the enthusiastic intern from before. “What are you doing here?” she asked a little irritatedly.

“I’m sorry I-” he began to answer but she interrupted him.

“Shouldn’t you be… interning somewhere?” she asked a little angrily now. Why wouldn’t these people just let her be alone for some time?!

“Yeah, Scott said we should- we could chillax for five,” he said in a hesitant manner. “Whatever that means,” he mumbled. A moment passed, before Kara was suddenly taken aback again, as he disregarded what had happened seconds ago and walked inside the room, observing all the paintings. Kara stood there, shocked, as he continued his evaluation of the canvases.

He adjusted his glasses and continued as though nothing had happened just now. “And you know the best part about your work?” he began. “It's that all these canvases have something in common. They may seem as different, imaginative pieces but that’s not true at all. See, because imagination can be random. But this, all these paintings, they seem more purposeful. More personal than mere imagination. It’s like they’re special to you.” Turning to face her, he said, “Like a memory.”

Kara stared as the anger on her face quickly transformed into fear. She was struck with the unnerving feeling that the man in front of her knew something about her. He somehow knew her deepest secret. He somehow understood the exact meaning behind these paintings. “Who are you?” she asked him, challenging him to explain how he knew all this. She continued to stare in shock, as he looked back at her and smiled. 

“Just a Career driven intern,” he said as he slowly brought his hand to his glasses and tapped the side.

All of a sudden, Kara was more shocked than she had been seconds ago.

But she was not afraid anymore. The dread she had felt a second ago had vanished. Because Mike Matthews no longer looked like himself. He looked like...

“Mon El?”

“Took you long enough to recognize me,” he exclaimed with a smile. “And it's Mike, by the way," he said in an amused tone.

Suddenly aware of her surroundings, Kara instantly looked around her, ensuring no one could see the face in front of her. She swiftly turned back and closed the door to the art room quietly, not attracting any unwanted attention. Once the door was shut, she turned to face him again. She wanted to ask him what he was doing here. How he was even here. But all she could manage were a series of sputtering questions that mainly included a string of words spoken so hurriedly that they resembled more gibberish than they did any other language known to the alien in front of her. As he stared at her with a quizzical look on his face, almost asking her if something was wrong with her mouth, she calmed herself a little, enough to sound intelligible. “What are you doing here?” she finally managed.

To this, Mon El gave her an amused look. He smiled a little, as he replied with a faux seriousness, “Oh I’ve been cooped up in the house for the entire month. So I just decided to take some time off. You know, get some fresh air.”

“So you decided to come to 12 for fresh air?” she asked, ridiculously. “I suppose your backyard was somehow more crowded than this entire mansion?”

“Well-”

“What if someone sees you?” Kara asked in a panicked voice. “I mean, how can you possibly think this was a good idea? Do you know how dangerous it can be if someone found you here?!” she exclaimed.

“I’m in disguise,” Mon El answered in a tone similar to hers.

“Oh right!” she said sarcastically. “I’m sure glasses are an excellent disguise!”

“These are not just glasses,” Mon El said, sounding almost offended by the insinuation. Pointing to them, he explained, “They’re called image inducers. Winn and I designed these a couple of years ago. Basically what they do is change some small trivial features of my face, enough to trick a person, a face-recognizer system and everyone else who sees me into thinking that I am a completely different person. So, even though I resemble myself a little,...” he said as he tapped the side of his glasses. Instantly, his face transformed, as tiny almost inconsequential details of his face changed just a little. The collective result was a face that was completely different. It resembled Mon El’s own face but only somewhat. “...No one can tell for sure,” he concluded, as he tapped the glasses again, his face quickly transforming back to its original form.

Kara stared at him for the longest time, almost not believing what she had just witnessed. She paused for a second, before commenting, “I can totally tell it’s you.”

Mon El looked at her with an even more amused look, as her lips curved into a sly smile. He quickly decided to play along, as he mumbled, “At least I didn’t start a blizzard to come here!”

“I didn’t start the blizzard!” she responded instantly. “I only… magnified it… a little,” she said, her volume decreasing with each word. After that, both of them fell quiet, Kara staring at Mon El, seeing his face with glasses for the very first time. The silence quickly came on the verge of awkwardness, when Mon El finally spoke up.

“So…” he began, “Mom told me you visited everyday.”

The statement suddenly surprised her, as she realized that he did know that she had visited him.

“She said you even brought some herbs that accelerated the healing.” He paused a little, as he scratched his ear and dawned on a look of confusion. “Now I’m not super… you know, hip on Earthly social cues, but I’m pretty sure that when someone says, ‘goodbye forever,’ they don’t visit you.”

Kara fell quiet. Her face fell a little, as she realized exactly what he was referring to. “Right,” she responded sheepishly. She paused a little as though figuring out what to say next, before responding with, “I guess, I was- uh… I get that I was cold and distant-”

Mon El hummed in agreement.

“And I- I shouldn’t have left you alone like that,” she said with a little difficulty, trying not to remember the melancholic memories.

Mon El sensed the uneasiness in her voice, and quickly said, “I’m just glad there wasn’t a blizzard!” as a means to diffuse the situation a little.

“I was just trying to protect you,” she said a little hurriedly, seemingly ignoring his statement. “At the time, I felt that staying away was the best option either of us had at keeping everyone safe. I guess I was wrong.” She said looking down at her feet.

Mon El quickly tried to diffuse the situation yet again, as he replied now in a slightly exaggerated tone. “High and mighty, enlightened Krypton. You always think you can take it alone. And just for the record, I came here to check on you. I knew being the… stubborn Kryptonian that you are, that you would probably just be feeling miserable all by yourself, blaming yourself for everything and stuck in grief. As it turned out, I wasn’t wrong-”

All of a sudden, he felt a rush of air, as he looked up just in time, as Kara super-sped towards where he was standing and embraced him tightly. She felt a wave of relief pass through her as he hugged her back and she realized numerous things all at once. Why he looked familiar, why she felt as though she knew him. The fact that he was here, and just how grateful she was for it. Her instincts, as it turned out, had been spot on.

“Are you okay?” Mon El asked as they hugged, his voice soft now.

“I’m so much better now,” she replied. She held onto him for a few extended seconds, calming down in his presence, feeling comfortable with him. She truly was glad to see him here, more than she could have imagined. With that, she hugged him just a little tighter when,

“Ow,” he uttered softly, prompting Kara to suddenly pull herself away from the hug and look at him with concern in her eyes. 

“I’m sorry, I- I’m so sorry, are you okay?” she hurriedly asked. 

“I'm fine," he said. “It’s just… the skin’s still a little sensitive.” Within a second, he realized the mistake he had made. He had accidentally reminded her of the one thing that he had wanted for her to forget. The one thing she still blamed herself for. He took note of how the look on her face transformed from concern to guilt. He tried to pull her out of it, tried to get her to let go of the guilt, but couldn't get Kara's attention, as she had her worried eyes fixed on something on his face. He followed her line of sight and noticed how she suddenly tensed up and fell quiet, staring at the diminished scar on his face. He instantly understood. 

Kara slowly, carefully brought her hand up to his face and lightly touched the scar. It wasn't as prominent now as it was when she had first seen it, but it was still there, leaving a mark on Mon El's face. The least of his injuries had left the most of its impact, for it reminded Kara of the pain he had gone through. It was a clear reminder of the suffering he had endured. 

And it was all because of her.

“It wasn't your fault."

Mon El spoke up almost as if on cue, as if he could hear the guilt in her head, reminding her of what she had done. He brought his own hand up to where hers was and held it softly, but reassuringly. It caused her to finally look up at him. As he stared into her eyes, he realized the pain, the agony that they had been holding back in them. It only caused his resolve to strengthen, as he repeated himself, this time with much more authority, not leaving any room for debate. 

“It wasn't your fault, Kara." He said with sincerity reflecting in his eyes.

This time, Kara did react, but not in the way he had hoped. Rather, she reacted in the way he knew she would, as she gave him a sad smile and turned away. Sighing defeatedly, she walked over to the large window of the Art Room, and slouched down, dejectedly by it. He observed how in contrast with the bright sunlight that engulfed her now, she looked extremely hurt, a pained look in her eyes.

“I was the one who drew a painting of Rue,” she began in a near whisper, a somber tone accompanying her words. “I couldn’t stop them, from getting a shot of it, in time. And because of that, even though I never meant for anyone to see it, I ended up broadcasting it to the entire world. I was the reason Snow decided to set up the Guard in 2, he meant it as a punishment for me, and… And you got hurt because of it,” she now had tears in her eyes that glistened owing to the sunlight. “How can it not be my fault?”

Mon El realized just how difficult it was to see her like this, He realized just how much he hated to see the tears in her eyes. He had felt similarly once when they had been in the arena. When she had kept on blaming herself for Rue’s death. But unlike then, he didn’t feel helpless today. Now, seeing her like this only strengthened his resolve. It caused him to walk over to her and kneel near her.

He took her hand in his and held it steady, as he said, “Because you never did anything wrong,” with an unparalleled sincerity. “Hey, look at me,” he called out, as she tried to shake her head and negate his words. “You had every right to make that painting. The designers, they were the ones who put it on display without letting you know, without asking for your permission. What happened in 2 was not your fault, Kara,” he said, stressing on every word. “It was Snow’s way of creating enmity between our districts. Believe me, this was not because of you. He’s just using you as an apparatus to sow fear. What happened in 2 would have happened no matter what. He just used the painting as an excuse to do it.”

Even though what Mon El said made sense, even though she knew deep down that there was nothing she could have done to prevent the Guard in 2, Kara still couldn’t help feeling the guilt of it all weighing down on her. Because irrespective of who was at fault, irrespective of the reason behind everything, Mon El had still been hurt. Someone that she cared about had been punished, and she had been unable to protect him from it. 

Studying the worry in her eyes, the fear in them, he continued. “And as for me,” he said, understanding what was currently going on in her mind, “I’m fine. I will always be fine as long as I have the most powerful woman on Earth by my side. I know it must not have been easy to see me like that, but I assure you, I’m okay now. And I also know that you’re always gonna consider protecting me as your responsibility, but you need to understand that I’m not gonna let you take the blame on this one. I’m not gonna let you suffer because of something that was well beyond our control. So if you can just stop looking at me like I’m wounded, I can quit acting like it. And then maybe, we can go back to the way things were,” He paused for a moment, tugging her hand a little and smiling at her, before saying, “Kryptonian. I missed fighting with you!”

Kara fell quiet as she realized just how much she had missed hearing him call her that. She understood what he was trying to do, what he meant to do. “I’m just…” she said after a few stretched seconds, having a difficult time finding the right words. “I’m really sorry,” she finally resorted to saying. She looked at him, waiting for him to respond, as he paused for a few seconds, considering her words.

“We’re a team,” he began. Extending his arm, he offered her an open palm, before saying, “Can we make a deal?” he asked. When she remained quiet and raised her brows, prompting him to continue, he replied. “No more apologies.” 

Kara looked at him and finally smiled a little, before she gratefully accepted his deal and shook his hand.

Suddenly, Effie’s voice could be heard from outside the door. Both Kara and Mon El turned in the direction, having picked on the voice with their super-hearing. A second later, they looked at each other, both sporting a satisfied smile on their faces. 

Because Kara knew that they still had a lot to talk about. She understood that she still had to tell him everything that had occurred right from the moment Snow had warned her at the party in his mansion. But for now, they were both contended with the realization that neither of them were alone. They were a team now. And Kara could only feel hopeful at the prospect.

A boy from 2 and a girl from 12 working together.

“So, what do we do now?" Mon El asked.

Kara smiled at Mon El as she said, “We get up, Daxamite!” and quickly turned and headed for the door, while Mon El tapped the side of his glasses again, making him appear now like Mike Matthews.

* * *

The rest of the day had gone by rather smoothly. Once Kara’s interviews for the day had finally come to an end, she had observed her presenter from the Capitol dial down the panic by one notch. Effie had been rushing throughout the mansion all day, ordering people about, commanding them to get the job done right. It was why, now that the broadcast was finally over, the atmosphere inside the mansion had reduced to a version that somewhat resembled sanity. Kara had had a rather hectic day herself, for after her talk with Mon El, she hadn’t seen him once throughout the day. It was why, now that everything was over, she was tuning in to her super-hearing and trying to locate the intern named Mike Matthews.

She instantly heard his voice. He was in the front room, talking to someone.

As she made her way towards the room, and entered it, she instantly stared in shock.

“Effie!” Kara suddenly called out, as the presenter, who was conversing with Mike turned and looked at her questioningly. “The uh- the crew wanted your opinion on the… lights,” she said, making up a flimsy excuse.

Effie sighed exasperatedly. “Nothing gets done around her unless I do it myself,” she said to herself as she turned one last time to Mike. “Excuse me, dear,” she said with a slightly exaggerated smile, and Kara could swear she could actually see her blushing.

“Sure,” Mike replied with a well-natured smile.

With that, Effie quickly made her way out of the room, while Kara rushed in.

“Hi-” Mon El greeted her when,

“You look like yourself!” she suddenly whispered in a hurried tone.

Mon El, confused at first, suddenly realized what she was referring to and quickly removed his glasses to inspect the circuitry that ran through the inside of the frame. “Huh,” he knitted his brows. “That’s strange. The circuit’s fried.” Suddenly, realization struck him. “Oh shoot! It must’ve been the sweat.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Kara said hurriedly, as she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the door. “We need to get you out of here before anyone sees you.”

Just before Kara could open the door, “Wait!” Mon El suddenly called her out. “Are you telling me that Effie was talking to me for like ten minutes and the entire time she thought I was a different person just because I had glasses on?!” he asked in an unbelieving tone.

“You’ve talked to the woman for ten minutes and you still seem surprised by this?” Kara responded in a sarcastic tone.

Once they had managed to reach the main door of the house, Effie had quickly joined them to bid farewell to the ‘good-looking’ intern that she had met minutes ago and had seemed quite interested in talking to. It therefore took hiding his face from everyone else, telling Effie some made-up story about him leaving and a panicked set of instructions to get to the fence via the train station, disguised in a manner that Effie couldn’t tell something was up to finally get him out of sight and send him towards the District fence. Although Kara had considered her lies to be quite convincing, she had shot the retreating in the distance form of Mon El an angry glare when he had whispered, “You truly are terrible at this,” words only her super-hearing could catch.

Once he was gone, Kara had quickly rushed Effie up to her room and asked her to retire for the night, reminding her about how hectic a day they had to look forward to tomorrow. About a minute later, she could hear the sound of snoring coming from Effie’s room, and quickly realized that she was finally asleep. With that, she descended the steps and made her way to the living room couch. She smiled inwardly as she observed her Earth-mother Alura who was seated on the couch, deep in thought about something.

Alura had been excused from work that day, owing a little to the celebration, but more to emphasize that the Capitol was kind enough to let one parent (not both) of the latest victor enjoy the day and take part in the many festivities. It was why Kara had managed to remain sane since Effie had woken up the house at 2 a.m. Although she hadn’t really talked to her mother about the nightmare she had had the previous night (she was actually grateful that Alura hadn’t brought it up either), she had been glad to have her by her side throughout all the craziness. She had simply been there for her throughout the hectic day. Alura’s presence itself had helped Kara immensely.

“Well, Effie’s finally asleep,” Kara called out, pulling her mother back to reality and causing her to turn and look at her. “I suppose we have about two hours before she sets the house on fire again!” Alura smiled as she observed her daughter walk towards where she was sitting and all but slump down on the couch besides her. 

“Today was a… long day,” she commented, her words causing Kara to smile tiredly.

“It felt like it would never end,” Kara huffed.

The two of them remained quiet for a few moments, before Alura finally spoke up.

“So," Alura began, her lips curving into a teasing smile. “Mike's an interesting fellow."

Kara, who had been sitting besides her mother, relaxed and with her eyes closed suddenly tensed up at the mention of the name. Her eyes shot open as she slowly looked besides her to observe an amused Alura looking back at her. “Y-yeah," she responded hesitantly. “Yeah, he's- these people from the Capitol," she continued hurriedly, “they're always… weird."

“You know he looked a lot like someone I've seen before," Alura said with knitted brows. “I just can't remember where," she exclaimed. She noticed as Kara tensed up even further in reaction to the statement.

“Really?" She asked in a high-pitched voice. “I don't- I didn't think so." Her hand shot up to cover the crinkle on her forehead as she said, “I've never seen that guy before in my life."

That was when Alura finally smiled. She looked at her daughter with raised eyebrows. One look at her mother and Kara knew that there was no point in continuing. One look, and she understood that she knew.

“Was it that obvious?” Kara asked with a smile, slumping her shoulders in defeat.

“To me,” Alura answered. “I mean, I was the first one to notice that crinkle of yours any time you lied. I remember the first time you did it. You were telling me about Krypton and I was trying my best to understand, but I guess I couldn’t completely. But you reassured me that I did.” Smiling at the memory, she said, “You were a six year old kid and you already had the maturity of a saint. You could understand that no matter how much I tried I could never truly get what it was like back in your home world, because I was never there. But even in that, you tried to make me feel better; tried to tell me that you were okay with me not understanding everything.”

Kara smiled herself, as she remembered the time. As a little girl on Terra, she would share everything with her beloved mother. She remembered as she would tell her everything she would remember not only about Krypton, but also about her life in general back before Krypton had exploded. Even though she would feel a little dejected every once in a while, for she would be unable to explain to her mother the lifestyle on Krypton or the many worlds that she had visited, she would still be okay with it by the end. For her mother would ensure that she was okay. She would ensure that everything would be fine.

Things had become different when Kara had stopped sharing. It hadn't been the same ever since she had returned from the arena

“I guess that’s why I couldn’t be there for you,” Alura’s tone changed, as the smile on her face transformed into a somber look. “I could never understand what it was like because I had never gone through that myself. Just like I couldn’t be there for you after the Games. I am so sorry”

Kara tried to intervene, but failed, as Alura continued.

“I will never know what it’s like to return from the Games. I will never understand what you went through in that arena. I suppose my only regret is that I couldn’t be there for you through it all.”

“But you were there,” Kara spoke up. “You were always there. Growing up on this planet was not easy, but you made it so much better. I don’t know what I would’ve done if the day I had landed here, my pod hadn’t been found by you and dad. By making me a part of your life, you’ve given me more that I could have ever asked for. And even though you can’t know what it was like on Krypton, believe me. You’ve helped me in more ways than you can imagine. And the arena? Mom, there wasn’t a moment in the arena when I didn't miss you. The first two days I was there, I was lost. You kept me sane. Your voice, telling me to keep going is the reason I could even hope to get out of there alive.”

Kara felt as though a weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. She realized how she had kept this to herself for such a long time. She realized how great it felt to finally talk to Alura about it.

“If anything,” she continued. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I should’ve talked to you after I returned. I should’ve told you about everything. But I… I just couldn’t. I didn’t want you to know what it felt like. I guess I just- kept it all buried inside, in the hopes that if I didn’t let it out for long, the pain would be gone. I just wanted to protect the people that I care about from everything. I guess I ended up hurting you in the process.”

“You didn’t hurt anyone,” Alura responded instantly.

“I don’t wanna keep it in anymore,” Kara said after a moment. “I don’t wanna pretend that the pain doesn’t exist. I wanna share everything… the way I used to share everything with you. I wanna feel better like I used... to after talking to you.”

“There’s nothing I would like more,” Alura said as she finally let out the tears in her eyes.

With that, they embraced each other. Even though both were in tears, even though Kara knew she still had a lot to talk about to her mother, she knew that this was a start. Because unlike a month ago, when she had let out her true emotions regarding Rue, she didn’t feel hopeless now. How could she? She was in the embrace of her mother, the person closest to her on this planet. Hopelessness didn’t stand a chance.

* * *

“How was the Academy?” Rhea asked as Mon El entered the kitchen. 

Mon El had reached home mere minutes ago. He had planned on quietly sneaking up to his room when Rhea had caught him. “Good,” he replied, answering her question. Before leaving for District 12 in the morning, he had told her that he was going to 2’s Academy and spending the entire day there. He hadn’t wanted to lie to her, but had thought it to be the best option to sneak to 12 and back. “Yeah, the Academy’s... just like I left it,” he said with a fake grin.

To this, Rhea simply nodded. She sipped through her mug, as she observed her son, who was now heading towards the kitchen counter to make some coffee for himself. He was in the middle of retrieving a cup for his drink, when she decided to ask her next question.

“Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s alright,” he replied seconds before realizing his mistake. “Uhm- I mean, who?” he tried to retrace his steps, but one look at Rhea told him that he had failed miserably.

“Kara, of course. You had gone to 12 today to meet her, right?” Rhea asked with a raised eyebrow, before sipping from her mug, hiding her smile.

Mon El sighed in defeat.

“Are you mad?” he asked.

In response, Rhea placed the mug on the table and finally looked at him. But rather than a frown, as Mon El had expected, she faced him with a smile. “No,” she answered. “I just hope you’re being careful?”

“Of course,” Mon El replied earnestly.

A minute later, Rhea continued. “You remind me so much of you father when you lie to me like that,” she sighed, lost in memories from a long time ago. “He was just like you in this matter. Taking risks, getting things done, even if it meant deceiving the peacekeepers. The man never backed away from a challenge.”

Mon El smiled at the memory of his father.

“I guess I should be grateful to that trait of his,” Looking at Mon El, she continued. “Because that’s what brought you into our lives.” She paused for a moment, remembering the exact moment that Mon El had fallen to Earth. “Maybe that’s why he was always the one who could… truly be there for you. He always knew exactly what to do, when it came to you. How to raise you, protect you. He truly understood you.”

The smile vanished, as a somber look settled on her face instead.

“Maybe that’s why after… he was gone, things got so complicated. That’s why you had to suffer… Because I couldn’t take care of you. I couldn’t be there for you. I wasn’t there for you when you needed me the most… Instead, I blamed you… I pushed you away,... made you feel like it was your fault. But it wasn’t. It was never your fault. I knew that… I just wasn't strong enough. I just couldn’t be a good enough mother.” She looked directly into his teary eyes through tears of her own, as she uttered, “I’m sorry.”

“Mom, no,” Mon El spoke up and was immediately by her side. “How can you even think that? You were a wonderful mother. You were always there for me. You taught me how to live here, how to survive on this planet. Everytime I would have nightmares about Daxam, you were always there by my side, telling me to be strong. You always kept me safe. Even when it came to risking your own life for me, you did it without the slightest hesitation. You did it so that I could survive, so that I could live another day on Earth.”

“When dad died,” he said holding back his tears, “I… it was difficult for all of us. But I knew that I had to stay strong, I wanted to stay strong. Where do you think I learned that from? Dad wasn’t there when I had to go to the Capitol for the Games. He wasn’t there when I got whipped in the town square and I was begging for the pain to stop. That was you, Mom. I called out to you. Dad may have been the reason I came to this house, but you’re the reason I survived this long.”

With that, the tears finally began flowing, as the mother-son duo embraced each other. They were both trying to contain the tears, knowing full well that it wasn’t going to happen. A few moments later, Mon El pulled away from the hug. He looked at his mother and said in between sniffles, “You don’t ever have to apologize to me for anything. That’s not how a mother-son relationship works.”

To this, Rhea replied in a stern but faltering voice, “I’m your mother. You do not dictate the terms of our relationship.”

That caused Mon El to laugh as they embraced once more. 

The walls of the victor’s mansion had finally witnessed a happy memory. They no longer haunted the family that lived inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will update these as soon as possible!
> 
> Thank You for Reading!  
> Until next Time!


	12. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Talk to someone about it. Trust me… it works.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope truly is a beautiful thing!

Warm sunlight woke her up.

Golden sunlight poured in through the large windows of her room, brightening up the surrounding area, giving the room a soft glow. The rays slowly glided up, spreading first along the large wooden floor, continuing to illuminate the walls, the furniture, reaching all the way upto the ceiling. Although Kara had her eyes closed, she could feel the atmosphere of her room change into a warm, pleasant one. She scrunched her eyes a little, keeping them closed, as the rays reached her face. Basking in the enriching light of the yellow sun, she stayed like that for a moment before she slowly opened her eyes and peered at what lay in front of her.

The view took her breath away. As she squinted at the scenic view from her room window, she realized she had never noticed, never truly appreciated it before. A long stretch of green, specked with the pristine white of snow, covered the entire area outside the mansion, leading directly towards the forest that lay on the outskirts of District 12. The skies appeared calm, the cool blue bringing to life a serenity that stretched on to infinity. From behind the horizon, slowly emerged a bright ball of fire that showered both the heavens and the grounds with an uplifting orange. Tall trees of the forest cast long shadows behind them, facing the sunrise valiantly, as the flakes of snow accumulated on the branches gradually melted away.

Kara observed the scene for a long time. She couldn’t help but feel elated by it all, as a smile made its way on her lips. A part of her realized just how long it had been since she had last felt like this. It reminded her of how long it had been since she had woken up to a calm, pleasant sunrise, rather than to a nightmare. It recalled just how much she had missed the unworried, uncaring state of mind that she was experiencing right now. She was at peace. It was a feeling both strange, yet distantly familiar. She hadn’t felt like this in a while, hadn’t hoped to reach here ever again.

Yet, here she was.

Because there was nothing to worry about. There was no reason to be afraid. Ever since Kara had returned from the arena of the 74th Annual Hunger Games, Kara had felt nothing but fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of what lay ahead. Today, however, none of that dreadful feeling made itself known to her. Today, there was nothing that alarmed her. No voice in the back of her head that warned her about a horrifying fate that awaited her. Today, she felt something that she hadn’t felt in quite some time. A concept that she had grown to fear, because of the Capitol over the past few months. But not today. Today she wasn’t afraid. 

Because today she felt hope.

Sitting up in her bed, rubbing the sleep away from her eyes, she took in a deep breath and stretched a little. If the light entering her room was any indication, the sun had risen already. It meant that Kara had already missed her usual waking time, which had always been hours before daybreak, when it was still dark outside. Before she could think about the consequences however, she gave herself a few more moments of peace. She allowed herself a little more time to simply relax in the silence that surrounded her. 

Minutes later, the silence broke, as her super-hearing picked up on sounds coming from downstairs. She finally realized the situation, as memories began filling her blissfully unaware mind. Although the day had just begun, from the sounds she could hear, the preparation for the last day broadcast of the week-long celebration in District 12 was already in full swing downstairs. Looking at the entrance of her room, Kara grimaced, as she thought about exactly what would be waiting for her on the other side of the door. An enraged Effie, distressed, panicked in every sense, that her victor was still in bed.  _ ‘There is so much to do and so little time! Make-up, costume, hairdo, none of it is done! Whatever are we gonna do?!’ _ the voice of her uptight presenter from the Capitol filled Kara’s mind.

She sighed, defeatedly, dejected that the peaceful bubble that she had woken up in would burst as soon as she left the room. With that, she forced herself out of bed. As she straightened up, she recalled another memory from the night before. Instantly, she realized why she hadn’t awoken to nightmares today. Nearly every night since Kara had returned from the Games, she had fallen asleep to the dreary state of mind brought about by memories of her time in the arena. Nightmares had become a constant, so much so, that Kara had begun to avoid sleep altogether. This past week, however, had proven to be pleasantly surprising.

She had her mother to thank for it.

Ever since the conversation between Alura and her daughter, that had taken place on the very first day of the week, things had changed for the better for the female victor of the 74th Annual Hunger Games. Kara had stayed true to her word, in that, she had been much more willing to share with her Earth-mother, the numerous things that went on in her mind, every time she remembered the Games. Kara and Alura had spent every night for the past week simply talking. Kara had blurted out all her fears, her anxieties while Alura had simply listened, her presence alone giving her daughter the strength she had required. Everytime Kara would talk about a particularly harsh memory, Alura would give her the comfort she so needed in order to continue. They would do so for hours, until Kara would finally fall asleep in the warm embrace of her mother, only to be woken up by a ruckus outside the room thanks to Effie. That was how most of the week had gone by. That was why, even though the week had been extremely taxing for Kara, even though she hadn't been getting as much sleep as she needed, she was still feeling better; much better than she had been in the past month.

Walking towards the door, Kara realized that this was the first time this week that she had managed to wake up alone without any nightmares, for Alura was nowhere to be seen at the moment. Eager to look for her mother, yet regretting the meeting with a restless Effie, Kara hurried through her morning routine and finally stepped out of her room.

As soon as she pushed open the heavy-set doors of her room, she was instantly met with the slightly amplified noise coming from downstairs. It was the sound of the many people that were currently creating nothing short of chaos on the ground floor of the Victor's mansion. Kara had become used to the ruckus now. So much so that it had essentially become routine now. She felt elated as she realized that today was the last day, the final day that she had to deal with the madness, for today, the so-called celebration would finally be over. And the professionals from the Capitol, the only people who actually cared about something as unimportant, would finally board the luxurious train waiting for them on the District 12 station and leave for the Capitol, not to return for a long, long time.

Kara couldn't wait.

As she descended the grand staircase, she tuned in her super-hearing to the voice of Effie Trinket, trying to locate her among the numerous people who barely noticed her, continuing on with their work. Not hearing her right away, Kara quickly realized that the woman was perhaps somewhere on the other side of the mansion, eating some poor crew member's head off for not doing something properly. Sure enough, as she focussed her hearing a little further, Kara caught on to Effie's familiar voice (berating some girl for not setting up the flower arrangement properly). Dispiritedly, Kara made her way towards the angry voice. Just then, another conversation reached her ears. The voices belonged to two people who were, it seemed, somewhere near the back gardens of the mansion. They felt familiar. 

_ “Dr Zorel, it’s an honour and a privilege!” _ the male voice exclaimed.

_ “Please,” _ the woman responded in a warm, sincere manner,  _ “call me Alura.” _

Kara stopped, as she recognized the voices. She realized how these were the two people that she actually didn’t mind having in the house. The two people, whose presence she had grown used to, much like the chaos, in the past week. The two people that managed to calm her down every single time, and brought a smile to her lips even in the worst of times. 

She hurried over to meet with Effie, with a smile.

* * *

Mon El was carrying three boxes of equipment with great difficulty, trying to balance them in his arms. The contents in each of the packages made little sense to the resident from District 2, for they contained some type of exotic plants, weird looking light fixtures, and some weapon-resembling garden tools, among other things. Belonging to the technological district of Panem, Mon El had neither used, nor seen gardening tools in all his life on Terra. 2 had always been almost entirely focussed on automation and machinery. The atmosphere was always crammed with metal, devoid of green, of important elements of nature such as plants and trees. Greenery just wasn’t an option in the most popular Career District of Panem. It was why every citizen of 2 would most probably stare at most flora as though it were an alien entity.

The actual alien from 2 was no exception.

He slowly, carefully walked through, avoiding the bustling corridors, trying not to break any of the items he had been given the responsibility to carry over all the way to the gardens in the back. Today, being the last day of the District day celebration here in 12, the Capitol TV programming was to include various segments showcasing the various achievements of the district. Since 12 was the science district of the nation, and dealt with most natural science discoveries for the world, said achievements ranged across almost every field that existed. Gardening, it seemed, was one of them; a major one. It was why one of the segments was dedicated entirely towards the fascinating, creative cultivation breakthroughs that the district had been responsible for. It was why a few cameras had been set up in the vast gardens of the victor’s mansion, while the task of setting up the area had fallen on the shoulders of the one person who knew squat about plants, the intern, Mike Matthews.

Mon El sighed in resignation.

Mon El, as Mike, had tried his level best to somehow be assigned to the slightly more tech-related segments for the broadcast, (he had noticed some reactors on display and so, had undoubtedly attempted to work in that department), but had ultimately been unable to get the work of his choosing. He had even tried to explain to Scott, the interior designer from the Capitol, in-charge of assigning tasks to the numerous interns that had come for the event, that he was terrible at gardening. To that, however, the designer had very smugly replied with  _ ‘Never a bad day to learn something new!’ _

‘The senseless bastard,’ Mon El thought.

Carefully setting each of the boxes down on the patio, he surveyed the ground before him. The first thing he noticed was the vast expanse of the backyard of this victor’s mansion. Every district consisted of a Victor’s Village, and they all had mansions that were more or less identical to the architecture and design, with the exception of a few factors, depending upon the district. The mansions in 2 had no requirement for a yard, for none of the victors would ever plan on any gardening activities at all. Here in 12 however, since the people here worked mostly in a field that required experimentation and discoveries relating to natural sciences, these houses were given larger plant space.

As Mon El stepped lightly through the vast area, he took in numerous aspects of the backyard, including the plain stretch of freshly mown grass, the neatly trimmed shrubs and the tall wooden fence that ran along the entire perimeter of the mansion. In some ways, it reminded him of the meadow in the forest, except here, things felt neither familiar, nor peaceful. Owing to the fence, even the large expanse felt confined, as though this was land owned by the Capitol, and anyone unfortunate enough to step in it, was by transitivity owned by them as well. He then turned to look at the numerous, exotic saplings he was supposed to plant here, and frowned in disapproval. From the very first look, he had instantly realized that none of the plants appeared anything like the ones he had seen in the forest. Some of them even resembled the ones he had seen on other worlds when he had been a child. But none of them gave him even the slightest bit of idea regarding how he was supposed to plant them. Besides them, in another box, lay the various tools he was given to carry out the task. Being a Career, Mon El had worked with numerous weapons over the years, even the extremely dangerous ones. But none of them came close to how deadly these ‘weapons being advertised as tools’ looked. Mon El took in a deep breath as he realized that he had no idea how to use any of them. But he wasn’t planning on letting that stop him. He was a Career dammit! He had always faced challenges head on. He would do the same here. He had a task in hand. He would complete it.

An hour later, he was somehow farther from finishing his work than he was when he began.

“You need some help with that?”

A voice called from behind him, causing him to turn instantly and face the newcomer.

“Dr Zorel,” he exclaimed upon seeing Kara’s Earth-mother. “It’s an honour and a privilege,” he said, extending his hand for a handshake, but stopping midway, realizing how muddy his hands were, owing to his gardening attempt.

The woman in front of him simply shook her head and smiled. She then proceeded to retrieve a towel and handed it to him. “Please,” she said, “call me Alura.”

“Thank you, Alura” he replied as he accepted the towel from her and wiped his hands. “And no, please,” he continued, “I can’t possibly ask the guest of honour for help. I’ll uh- I’ll take care of this,” he said, gesturing to the poorly spread out garden.

To this, Alura shook her head. “I’m not the guest of honour though,” she said. “I’m the mother of the guest of honour. That makes me no more special than any other citizen of 12.” Pointing in the direction of the crowded mansion, she continued, “That’s how all these people from the Capitol see me.” She then paused for a moment and smiled a little playfully before she said, “Well, most of them,  _ Mike _ .”

Mon El instantly looked up. He noticed the peculiar look on Alura’s face. It told him that something was wrong. The way she was looking at him, smiling, the tone in which she had said his alias name. They indicated that something was off. It took him a moment, but he finally realized what was going on. 

Adjusting his glasses, he said, “I uh- I was under the impression that my disguise was working. I'm sensing that's not right," he said, sheepishly.

“No,” Alura replied. “I recognized you on the very first day. The disguise isn’t bad,” she continued, pointing to his glasses. “But the story that you came from the Capitol, didn’t match your civility. Your niceness gave you away.”

Mon El smiled abashedly. He brought his hand to the back of his head, caressing his own hair, a gesture of slight embarrassment, and stood there, as though a boy had been caught in the middle of his shenanigans. A moment of silence passed between them, before Mon El finally spoke up, this time, speaking more like himself than Mike Matthews. “I’m not surprised,” he said to Alura. “I mean, Kara tells me you’re a brilliant scientist, so it was bound to happen.”

To this, Alura nodded, as she replied, “Yes, well, she has told me good things about you too.” As Mon El smiled and looked down at his feet, Alura continued. “I’m really glad you’re here,” she said after a moment. “I know just how difficult things have been for her, especially these past few months.” Although she hadn’t used her name, both of them knew exactly whom she was referring to. “I’m happy that she has found a companion in you. That she didn’t have to go through everything in the arena alone.”

As Mon El considered her words, he paused a little, as though deciding what to say in response. “Your daughter has been a beacon of hope… for me and… and for others,” he said remembering Rue. “She’s always managed to be the light, the ray of hope even in the darkest of situations. Meeting you, I know where she gets it from,” Mon El said, sincerely. Getting to know Alura these past few days, he had realized just how wonderful the woman truly was. She was determined, fierce even, when it came to the wellbeing of her daughter. In many ways, she reminded him of his own Earth-mother. Knowing Kara, he knew that someone as resolute as Alura was exactly what she needed to get through to her. Because when faced against a mother’s will power, the stubborn Kryptonian simply didn’t stand a chance. 

They stood there for a moment, before Mon El finally spoke up. “I really don’t wanna bother you with all this,” he said referring to the garden. “I mean it… it seems like it’s gonna take a while and you don’t have to go through that trouble. I’ll uh- I’ll figure something out,” he said determinedly, skeptical in the back of his mind regarding his ability to actually do so.

“It’ll be no trouble at all,” Alura waved her hand. “And besides…” she said looking at his work so far, “you really do need my help because… Well firstly that thing that you’ve been using as a shovel, that’s a watering can. And that sapling over there… it’s upside down. Those flower-like things are actually the roots. They’re supposed to be inside the ground.”

Mon El didn’t even have to turn to know exactly what Alura was referring to. “Yeah that… that makes more sense,” he said, berating himself just a little. Finally, he spoke up, “Okay, you can help, but on one condition.” When Alura looked at him curiously, he continued. “Well, Kara tells me that you’re an amazing scientist in the field of cellular biology. That must be… riveting. I must hear all about this field. For instance… what’s a cell?!”

To that, Alura laughed a little, as she took note of the genuine confusion on his face. The two of them quickly got to work, correcting the many mistakes Mon El had made on his own and setting up the backyard properly this time. Mon El kept on asking numerous questions, fascinated by nearly every aspect of the field, while Alura answered them all patiently. She didn’t mind the onslaught of queries, for she was used to having a deeply fascinated alien around the house. She was well aware of the fascination, the curiosity.

With that, they continued to work, unaware of the girl who had been hearing their conversation the entire time.

* * *

“Kara!”

The cheerful voice caused her to turn and look at its source. Kara had been busy enjoying some of the many delicacies that had been spread out at the buffet table. Ever since the first day of the celebration, when Kara had been unable to get even one bite of food throughout the day, things had changed drastically, for, the next day, Mike Matthews, the intern who was known to be quite enthusiastic about food, had brought in an extra shipment of food items. He had even covertly stored some of the extra food in the kitchen cabinets that could be distributed among the people of the district later on. Kara wasn’t sure if Mon El had been cooking the food himself, or had somehow convinced Scott and the other Capitol crew to bring in more food. Either way, Kara was glad.

Then there was the fact that she was getting to eat at all. Ever since Effie had been staying over, Kara had had nearly no time to eat, for, in Effie’s words, ‘it could wait.’ The truth however, was far from it, for Kara was no ordinary human. The yellow sun provided her with an accelerated metabolism, which meant that she actually required much more food than humans to fill her stomach. She could go for quite some time without eating, certainly longer than a human, but due to her enhanced abilities, she felt the effects of hunger excessively. That was why Alura had finally intervened. The woman had set her foot down, and had warned the presenter from the Capitol that the only way her daughter would continue to do whatever it was that she needed to do, was if she had food to eat and some time to rest. Effie may have been a determined person, very difficult to convince. But when it came to her daughter, Alura was a force of nature.

It was why Kara had been getting quite some free time now. It was why, she had quickly found out when she had met Effie in the morning, Kara had been allowed to sleep for a little longer today.  _ ‘It was the final day, so I thought we could take things a little easier today. You know, give you a mini break, you deserve as much,’ _ the presenter had told her, but going by the look on her face, as well as the tone of her voice, Kara knew, that the woman was all but terrified of Alura and had thus taken her ultimatum very seriously.

It was why, for the very first time since this madness had begun, Kara was genuinely smiling. Her smile only grew further, as she spotted her best friend walking towards her. “Eve?” Kara greeted with knitted brows and a smile. “What are you doing here?” she enquired.

“I’m finally done,” the girl exclaimed in a relieved tone. “I’m finally finished with my part of the presentation!”

Since 12 was the science district of Panem, the showmakers from the Capitol felt that it needed to be represented accordingly. As a result, numerous experiments and scientific presentations involving the many works of 12 had been set up as a part of the District day celebration broadcast. Each of them required someone qualified enough to explain the workings to the rest of the audience. Hence, scientists excelling in different fields, from the District labs, had been given this prestigious responsibility. Evelyn Tessmacher, the chief analyst for the geothermal life support system and Kara's best friend, was one of them. Even though the entire presentation had been projected as though it were an honour for all the scientists involved to make an appearance on Capitol TV, reality was far from it, for, none of the scientific minds involved wanted anything to do with a broadcast that the entire district collectively considered to be a waste of time. Eve was no exception. In fact, she had been enraged by the very notion right from day one.

_ “Ten minutes!"  _ she had exclaimed. _ “They've given me ten minutes to explain Project Harun-el like it's nothing. I mean it's ridiculous!" _

_ “Oh you think that's ridiculous?" _ Kara had argued.  _ “Try listening to the stuff they ask me in the interviews." _ Referring to the synthetic material that had been displayed for Eve's project, Kara had continued. “ _ I’d take talking about a life saving rock over those stupid interviews any day.” _

Kara was glad the annoyance was finally over for her best friend. “They finally got everything they needed?" she asked, referring to the persnickety Capitol crew. 

Eve nodded her head. “Well, unfortunately it's just a really pretty rock to these people. No one’s interested in the complexities, the intricacies of its design. So, I'm pretty sure most of what I said is gonna be edited out. But hey, at least it's over, right?!"

Kara smiled in response. She couldn't wait until her part in this was over as well. 

“Oh," Eve exclaimed in response to all the food that had been laid out. “I see  _ Mike _ has been bringing a lot more food?"

Kara sighed a little exasperatedly. She knew how excitable her best friend was. She knew what telling her about Mon El's secret identity would entail. But she had told her anyway.  _ Mike _ had told her himself, when Kara had introduced her best friend to him a few days ago. Kara had always thought Mon El to be a little too candid with his alien origins. She had been so nervous, when she had told Eve, her best friend of all people that she was alien, whereas Mon El had simply introduced himself to her as, “Hey, I’m not human!” It was a trait that annoyed Kara somewhat, but also one that made her admire him. 

Eve, on her part, had reacted positively, just like she had when Kara had told her that she was a Kryptonian. The girl had been so excited ever since she had found out that Mike of the interns wasn’t just a guy not from the Capitol, but a guy from outer space! 

“Eve,” Kara spoke in a hushed tone, “I thought we were gonna control our excitement.” Looking around them, she spoke hurriedly, “We don’t want to out the poor guy to these people.”

“Oh sure!” Eve exclaimed. “Take his side, why don’t you? Over your own best friend,” she teased playfully.

“I’m not taking his side,” Kara replied. “I’m just… saying that maybe we can keep ourselves from getting… over-excited.”

“Well, I’m sorry but, I found out a few months ago that my best friend, whom I’ve known my entire life, is a-” she stopped abruptly, looking around her, ensuring no one could hear, before continuing in a very hushed tone, “an out-of-this-world person! And just as I was recovering from that news, two day ago, I found out that she has a friend who is another… out-of-this-world person. So, excuse me if I’m getting a little over-excited, because that’s how normal people react to stuff like this.” she paused for a moment, before she continued, “And in my defense you two are so scientifically… bizarre! I mean, his cells can absorb electrical energy and convert them into chemical energy. It’s like photosynthesis!” she exclaimed. “He’s essentially a plant!”

Kara raised her hands in defeat and smiled. “I… There is… no winning with that logic.” she commented. A moment later, both of them began laughing in a hushed tone, giving the passers-by no clue regarding what they were talking about. They continued to talk for another few minutes, like lost friends who had met after a very long time, glad to be able to get a moment of normal in the chaos all around them. Before they could let go entirely and reveal their true thoughts about the Capitol crew around them, Kara was called to costume and make-up. Promising Eve that as soon as this madness was over, they would hang out and spend hours simply to vent about all the nonsense that the Capitol crew had done over the week, she headed over to the make-up room where her prep team was waiting for her.

* * *

“Final touches and… You’re done!”

Kara looked at herself in the prep room mirror. It had taken a little over an hour, but she was finally ready. Her hair and make-up, since this was the final day of the week-long celebration, was kept minimal, making her appear a little more at home than on the other days. It was meant to signify that once the celebration was over, the female victor of the 74th Annual Hunger Games would go back to her usual routine of essentially staying at home and doing nothing.

Kara couldn’t wait.

As she stepped out of the room, carefully managing the complicated dress she was given for the final day, walking with the required poise and grace, she stopped in the corridor outside and took a moment to simply look at the chaos in front of her. Over-enthusiastic people from the Capitol running about in every direction, trying to get some trivial work done. She had witnessed this for over a week now, dreaded it for longer than that. Kara recalled just how frustrated she had been back when she had first found out that she would be spending an entire week in the festivities and another week with Effie preparing for it. She had had no idea how she would survive it all. She had been hopelessly lost, without clue, that the week would actually bring about something so pleasantly surprising, something that she now realized that she so desperately had needed, but hadn’t even realized it until now. She smiled, as she thought about everything.

“You ready for one final interview?”

Kara looked to her side, to see Henry, her mentor standing next to her. Kara nodded and smiled in response. She was yet again reminded of how things had changed for the good this week. Because this week, Kara had finally understood one thing very clearly. This week, she had finally realized something. Something that had been the cause of her pain these past few months. Something that she had been fighting with ever since she had returned from the arena. Kara had locked away a part of her ever since she had been through all the horrible things that had taken place in the arena. She had forbidden herself to feel anything but guilt. Bottling everything up, keeping it buried deep down, she had thought she could forget. But she had been wrong. She finally understood that now. 

Which was why she had finally taken up Henry’s offer to talk about her experience in the arena. When her mentor had first come up with the idea of talking about everything, sharing their individual experiences, since they were the only victors that 12 had, she had refused it altogether. But this week, Kara had learned that things like this never stayed buried. She could never forget, no matter how hard she willed herself to. She had to let it out. She had to let the people who had always stuck by her, help her. Henry Allen was a decent man, she knew as much, for he had stayed true to his promise of helping James as much as possible in the arena. He had helped her from the very moment she had left for the Capitol for the Games. She knew that he was perhaps the one person who understood exactly what it was like to return from the arena, for he was a victor himself. To add to it, he was from 12, just like her. In many ways, his situation was quite similar to hers. Kara had therefore decided to talk. To honour the people that they had each lost in the arena.

Henry gave her a reassuring nod, before he made his way in the make-up room for his own prep. Just as he left, Kara was about to walk towards the main couch for her final broadcast when, suddenly, a woman with her head down, suddenly passed her.

“Lena?” Kara called out, prompting the woman to look up.

One look at the designer caused Kara to knit her brows in worry. The costume designer for District 12 looked miserable. Her face appeared sullen, while the dark circles under her eyes gave her an extremely tired look. Kara had last seen her designer on the very first day of the week and hadn’t really noticed her since, owing to the hectic schedules. As she recalled now, Lena hadn’t looked well back then either.

“Are you alright?” Kara asked in a worried tone.

“Kara, hey,” she replied distractedly. “I’m uh- I’m fine I was just- packing everything up.”

Kara could instantly tell something was off. As she looked at her, unconvinced by her response, she noticed how Lena seemed disturbed, distressed by something. She no longer appeared sad, like she had been on the train during the victory tour. Rather, she appeared troubled, worried about something.

“Is it about Seneca?” Kara asked, directly, noticing how Lena suddenly looked up at the mention of the former head-gamemaker’s name. Kara understood that it was indeed regarding Crane, for, though Lena looked up, she didn’t say anything. “Effie told me he was a family friend of yours. I’m sorry.” 

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Lena replied, curtly.

Kara paused for a moment, before she finally spoke up. “I get that. And I know that you’re a private person. But for what it’s worth, I uh- I do know a little bit about grief. I know what it’s like when… someone close to you dies. Why you wouldn’t wanna talk about it because it… sucks? I get that.” She paused for a moment as she thought about the advice that Mon El had once given her. “But… as it turns out, not talking about it, dealing with everything on your own… it just makes things worse. Because you’re never gonna forget. The pain’s gonna be there. So… the best way to deal with it is to let it out. Talk to someone about it. Trust me… it works.”

Lena paused, as she considered Kara’s words. “I don’t have anyone to talk to,” she finally said.

To this, Kara quickly replied, “Sure you do!” As Lena looked up with knitted brows, Kara gave her a smile. “When I first came to the Capitol you were the only person who didn’t make a big deal about the Games,” she explained. “Given everything that was happening, I was… so glad that my designer wasn’t as… insane as the rest of the Capitol people!” When the designer remained quiet, Kara continued. “I’ve considered you a friend ever since and… I just want you to know that if ever you feel like talking,... well you know where I live,” she exclaimed. Kara understood that Lena preferred to keep things to herself. From what Effie had told her, she had never even revealed her last name to anyone. She had simply wanted the designer to know that she could always lend an ear if she needed it. Taking note of Lena’s hesitant face, Kara didn’t pursue the matter any further and excused herself. She bid her farewell and walked over to the living room for her final interview.

* * *

“Interning is tough work,” Mon El exclaimed a little dramatically, imitating the people from the Capitol.

It had been late afternoon, when the District day celebration broadcast had finally ended. Kara had internally sighed in relief, as she had heard the words, “Pack up!” from Effie. It had finally come to an end. Everything was finally over. The interviews, the broadcasts that had taken up two weeks of her life, were finally over. The female victor from District 12 had been glad.

A few hours later, when everything had been packed up and the mansion had been returned to its initial state, all recording equipment removed entirely, the Capitol people had finally left towards the station. Kara hadn’t been asked to see them off at the station, and had instead been told to stay at home and relax the rest of the day. She had taken that advice to heart. As the mansion had finally been cleared out, devoid of anything Capitol, she had finally closed her eyes and relaxed. Changing instantly into her normal clothes, she had planned on simply sitting on the living room couch and doing nothing but staring at the ceiling. Just as she had settled down, however, the doorbell had rung.

Kara had whined inwardly, worried, downright panicked that the crew from the Capitol was back. Dreading that Effie was standing on the other side of the door, explaining to her that the celebration had been extended for some reason, Kara had made her way to the front door. She had taken in a deep breath, preparing to face whatever calamity awaited her on the other side, and had opened the door.

The face she had been greeted with had neither alarmed her, nor upset her.

“Potstickers!” he had greeted her with. “Still piping hot!”

That had been about an hour ago. They had talked for a long time, while munching on food that, as Kara had learned, Mon El had indeed cooked himself. Now, the two of them were settled on either end of the main couch in the living room, while an empty container lay on the glass centre table. Mon El’s Mike-Matthews-the-intern-glasses were kept carefully on the table as well.

“The adventurous lifestyle of a Capitol intern not agreeing with you?” Kara asked playfully, in response to his statement.

“No,” Mon El replied with faux seriousness. “I don’t think it was my destiny to become an intern!”

Kara couldn’t help but smile. As she looked at the man in front of her, she suddenly realized just how much it meant to her to have him around. A few months ago, she had decided on severing all ties with him. Just months ago, she had been prepared to stay away, in order to keep the people that she cared about the most, including him, safe. But now, she realized, she couldn’t imagine going through it all on her own.

“What?” Mon El asked, pulling Kara out of her reverie. The question made her realize that she had been staring at him, lost in thought.

“Nothing,” she replied. “I just… I just really didn’t think I was gonna see you again… after that day.”

Mon El instantly understood, as the smile on his face diminished a little as he remembered the moment. “Yeah, me either,” he said. He paused a little, as he studied Kara’s expressions, recognizing the pain that the memory brought to her mind. “Well not for long,” he began in an amusing tone, trying to lighten the atmosphere and pull her away from the dreary thoughts. “I mean, I knew you wouldn’t let that happen!”

To this, Kara smiled as she played along and responded, “Well, yeah, obviously,” in a faux serious tone. They smiled for a moment, before her smile died down considerably, as she finally spoke up. “At the time, I thought it was the only way I could keep everyone safe. I should’ve listened to you… I was wrong-”

“No,” Before she could continue, Mon El interrupted her. “President Snow threatened to hurt your family, the people closest to you. You had every right to be afraid. I get why you did what you did.”

“Yeah well,” Kara replied, “it just feels like I’ve been afraid ever since the reaping. 

To this, Mon El sighed in response. “Yeah, I know what you mean,” he said, a frown on his face. “Coming out of the arena is… not easy.”

“No kidding.”

The duo remained quiet for quite some time, each locked in place by their demons that the 74th Annual Hunger Games had forced on them. To all of Panem, the last Games had allowed for not one but two victors to walk out of the arena, alive. But to the two victors, it was as though they had never left. The two of them had constantly been reminded of the Games at every turn, making it virtually impossible for either of them to forget that which they so desperately wished to forget. It was why, Kara thought, that the Capitol forced victors to do these interviews and broadcasts regularly. It was their way of never letting the people forget. Of never letting the victors forget what they had done. Of never letting them leave. Kara and Mon El were to remain in the arena of the 74th Annual Hunger Games for the rest of their lives.

“Well, I guess we adapt then.”

Mon El’s words pulled her out of her thoughts. She remained quiet and looked at him, prompting him to continue.

“We saved each other in the arena,” Mon El explained, “We kept each other alive. Every time. So then, maybe the way to deal with whatever comes our way now, is to face it together. Keep each other alive.”

Kara took note of the sincerity in his voice, while Mon El observed the thoughtful look on her face. In that moment, the two of them looked at each other, lost in thought, not wanting for this peaceful moment to end. A wave of emotions filled Kara’s mind, as she looked into Mon El’s stormy grey eyes. She didn’t say anything after what he had just said. Neither of them spoke for a long moment, for they were lost in thought. For the first time since either of them had returned from the Games, both felt a renewed peace. Hope, that as long as they were together, they would be okay. 

As Mon El looked at Kara, he realized, for the first time ever, just how beautiful the Kryptonian was. Her eyes reflected every emotion of hers perfectly, while the golden blonde hair that fell in waves over her shoulders shone brightly in the orange light of the setting sun, giving her a magnificent aura. She looked beautiful. ‘Absolutely beautiful,’ he thought.

All of a sudden, he realized that the sun was indeed setting. Shaking away his thoughts, he instantly said, “It’ll be dark soon, I should uh- I should get going.”

His sudden words pulled Kara out of her own thoughts, as she blinked them away. “Yeah,” she quickly responded. Recalling the peacekeepers of the Guard that would soon patrol his district after dark, she asked him in a concerned tone, “You sure you’ll be okay?”

“I’m sure,” he reassured her, as he got up to leave. “And you?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” she gave him a warm smile. She walked with him to the door, handing him his glasses that instantly transformed him into Mike Matthews as he stepped out the house.

Right as he headed towards the direction of the District fence, he turned around and smiled one final time at her. “See you later, partner,” he called out, to which Kara smiled in response and waved him goodbye.

That night, as soon as Kara settled in bed and closed her eyes, she instantly felt sleep catching up to her. No nightmares, no fears were waiting for her in her mind. She felt peaceful, she felt okay.

She fell asleep within seconds in her moonlit room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I get into the end notes for this chapter, there's something I would like to share.  
> Last week, I had a pretty tough time writing and updating Chapter 11. With every line, I just felt un-driven. Like I had no motivation to write at all. And it was strange because I had been excited for the entry of Mike Matthews! So, even though I uploaded the chapter on time, I just felt like it could've been so much better. I wasn't happy.  
> So, before I began writing Chapter 12, I took two days off, just to clear my mind. I spent two whole days watching movies (Thor Ragnarok and Infinity War, in case anyone wants recommendations!) and eating and sleeping. Today, as I am uploading this chapter, I can honestly say that the break worked MARVELOUSLY! (gettit? Marvel!) Seriously though, it felt so great as I began writing this chapter, I felt motivated again. The excitement returned and I am happy with what I'm uploading.  
> So, just as a note to anyone who might need it, it's okay to take some time off. It's okay to just spend an entire day doing nothing. Because our mind is one of the most complex systems in the world. It needs and deserves a break sometimes!
> 
> And now... points to consider for this chapter:  
> 1\. Kara is happy! Who would've thought, right?!  
> 2\. Mon El and plants: The alien equivalent of Man vs Wild, only, wild wins here!  
> 3\. Eve is easily excitable!!! (she is Kara's best friend, after all!)  
> 4\. Lena... still don't know her last name!  
> 5\. The couch!!!!
> 
> Thank You for Reading!  
> Until Next Time!  
> P.S.: I know I haven't replied to the comments and I am soo sorry but I assure you I will reply ASAP!😅


	13. Careers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The creation of a Career..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this point on, you must think like a Career!

He felt a shiver run through his spine at the view.

The cold, unwelcoming aura of the District 2 Academy building, though intimidating to a newcomer, felt routine, almost nostalgic to the man who had been a regular visitor for the past fourteen years. The walls here had watched Mon El grow from a hesitant, scared little child, to a man who knew well enough just how necessary it was to keep his emotions, particularly his fears, well hidden. Every day, he had sharpened the many, deadly skills that this place had had to offer, all in the hopes of never having to use any of them. Each day, he had learned a crueler, more destructive way of surviving. He had been taught to become used to the pain, the suffering that accompanied being a survivor. These walls had watched countless innocent children grow up to be ruthless killers. They had facilitated the creation of fighters, of deadly warriors.

The creation of a Career.

Climbing up the front steps of the Training Academy, Mon El instantly took note of the cold, metallic atmosphere that now took over the surroundings. He noticed how the interior of the building, much like its external appearance, was daunting, almost hostile. It reminded him of just how much he despised his time in the Academy. How he hated everything that it stood for. In many ways, it reminded him of his time, his hatred for the District Factory of 2. The anomaly arose, however, when, even though he hated spending time in both places equally, he had always found himself spending most of his free time here in the many training rooms of the Academy. It was strange, Mon El had noticed, that he somehow favoured the cold, deathly training centre, the very same that he hated so much to begin with, over most other places in 2. Unlike the factory, he came here by choice. He despised his time here, but could never leave. The centre, he realized, was an incredibly important part of his life. It had seen who he really was. It had made him the man he was today. 

The victor he was today. 

“Ah, there you are," a voice greeted him. It belonged to a daunting man, who stood at the main lobby of the Academy, welcoming Mon El with a terse smile. One look at him, and the male victor of the 74th Annual Hunger Games sighed inwardly. ‘Great,' he thought to himself, sarcastically. ‘Just the man he wanted to meet.'

Standing next to the man that Mon El was quite reluctant to see, was his mentor. The stoic-faced man adjusted his glasses and stepped forward as his protégé reached the entrance corridor. “Mon El,” he nodded his head. Gesturing next to him, he continued, “I’d like you to meet the man responsible for the advanced training centre in 2,-”

“Walter Schott,” Mon El completed the statement, greeting the man with a brusque handshake.

“Mon El Roqford,” Walter returned an equally aloof nod. “The man of the hour.”

“I take it you two know each other?” Wells asked, going by the bitter looks that either of them shot at each other.

“Oh yes,” Walter replied, turning to Wells. “I’ve known this kid since he was in school. He was in Winn’s class, and the two have been so-called best friends since childhood. I remember the two of them always used to gather scrap parts from the old warehouses and waste time in developing some pointless projects.” He paused a little, before a spiteful smirk adorned his face. “Of course, now we're neighbours. And I was going to ask how it was adjusting to the new place, but I suppose growing up, you’ve already spent quite some time at the mansion, haven’t you? Maybe that’s what got you a taste of the riches.”

Mon El ignored the snide remark, for he had expected it. To anyone who didn't know him, the comment was merely an observation. Only the people who knew him well, or had interacted with his family closely, knew just how his mind worked. Only they would understand that he saw Mon El's friendship with Winn as his means to gain access to the riches. Walter Schott was never one for civility. Unless, of course, one either participated in the Games, or at the very least, openly supported them. Then, Walter Schott could be the kindest, most charming man on Earth.

“I mean, I doubt you can call yourself a true friend of my son, anyway,” he continued. “You were a star student here,” he said, gesturing to his surroundings. “You were pretty good with everything. Weaponry, survival, combat, you had high scores in all areas. You could’ve taught some of those skills to Winn, motivated him to be a warrior, to be better.” Shaking his head, he sighed in resignation, he said, “Instead, you encouraged him to be an outsider. A man who ran from the Career lifestyle, rather than embracing it, a… a coward.”

The term finally caused Mon El to look up and stare directly into Walter's eyes. His stoic face gave way to a controlled anger that now reflected in his eyes. Wells noted how his student appeared as dangerous as he had ever seen him. Betraying the anger in his eyes, however, Mon El spoke in a calm voice. 

“Winn is a realist," he began. “He sees the Games as they are, not as the Capitol wants us to. He understands that there is no honour, no glory in a victory that comes to us by killing people. He's courageous enough to set ideals for himself and stick to them, even if it means to stand out in a crowd. He has the guts to be more than just a piece in the Games. He's a decent man. It's something you and I should learn from him."

The silence that followed his words was somewhat deafening, for Wells looked impressed, while Walter looked dumbstruck, struggling to find the right response. 

“Decency?" He finally spoke, as a vengeful look adorned his face. “You speak of decency, of how things like honour and splendour mean nothing to you. Yet, here you are, a Career, a victor. You act like you don't care for any of it, yet you bask in the glory that only winning the Games can provide. You enjoy the fame. You just don't have the integrity to admit it. Why else would you be standing here? Why else would you claim a victory that you volunteered for?”

At this, Mon El, though slightly taken aback by the man’s views, stared at him, considering his words. It took him a moment to grasp at the meaning, the audacity of the argument. A minute later, he smiled, the grin conveying the mockery in his mind. “Friendship is a concept you clearly don’t understand,” he began, shaking his head slightly. “It’s a lot more important than anything these Games could ever stand for. It seems pointless trying to explain that to you.” He paused again, as though preparing himself for what he wanted to say next. “You were right on one account, though,” he finally said.

“There is a coward in the Schott family.”

“You watch your mouth, son,” Walter growled in response. Rather than having the intended effect on Mon El, however, it seemingly worked in the opposite direction, as it broadened the ridiculing smile on Mon El’s lips.

“‘Watch your mouth?’” he said in an incredulous tone. “That’s your threat? Really?” He then raised his brows and hummed in faux understanding. “Kinda expected something a little more intimidating.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” It was Wells who finally intervened, just as Mon El appeared unrepentant, while Walter seethed with anger. Tapping his student’s shoulder, Wells said, “Mon El, why don’t you have a look around at the training rooms? See what field you want to be a trainer in. I need to have a word with Walter.”

At this, Mon El simply nodded. Seeming completely unaffected by what had happened mere seconds ago, he smiled at Walter, a little smugly, before nodding him goodbye and turning to leave towards one of the many metallic corridors that stemmed out from the main lobby.

Once sure that Mon El was out of earshot, Walter turned to Wells, a seething look adorning his face. “Can you believe that arrogant man?” he grumbled.

“Well,” Wells replied calmly, holding in a smile, his eyebrows raised, “He’s not entirely wrong, you know.”

* * *

‘That was the wrong move,’ Mon El berated himself.

He knew reacting to Walter’s words as he had, was perhaps not the smartest of moves. He wasn’t sure what had happened. In a split second, he had let his words affect him in the worst possible way. Within a second, he had said something he may regret saying later on. 

What confused him the most however, was that Walter’s remarks were nothing new. Growing up, Mon El had often either observed Walter being a moron first hand, or had heard of his stories from Winn. Either way, he had grown used to the hostility that the man had towards anything and everything that was even slightly against the Games. He had never reacted before, always reminding himself that it was simply not worth it. Then why had he reacted today?

A part of him came up with an explanation that made the most sense. It reminded him that before, he could only hate on Walter’s views from the perspective of a man who sympathised with the tributes in the arena. Now however, things were different. Now, he could see things from the perspective of one of a tribute himself. He knew just how much one could lose in the Hunger Games. He knew now, with renewed clarity, the price that a tribute had to pay, for they either died in the arena, or lived long enough to become a different version of themselves. There was no honour involved. No glory.

Suddenly, the lights around him flickered.

Scared for a moment, that he had accidentally caused it, Mon El stopped and ensured that his powers were in control. Once sure that he hadn’t been the cause for the lights flickering, he relaxed and began walking down the corridors, trying to figure out what was happening. Just then, his hearing picked up on one of the guards talking hurriedly.  _ ‘Check the control room. Something must be overloading the main circuits.’ _

Instantly, Mon El understood that the lights all throughout the Academy must have flickered, if it led the guards to believe that the main circuits might be the cause of worry. It was strange, he realized. A part of him was even relieved somewhat. Because today, Mon El was supposed to decide which trainer he wanted to be. He needed to select a field in the Academy that he could help kids master. That meant having to watch innocent kids turn into monsters. He had wanted nothing to do with it, but was forced to visit the Training Centre today. He was a mentor now. He would be one in the Quarter Quell that was just a few months away. He needed ‘to practice mentoring,’ according to the Capitol it seemed. But if there was a power outage in the Training Centre today, it meant that none of the training rooms would be fully functional. Kids would be given a holiday, while Mon El could go home.

Unless…

Instantly, Mon El turned on his heels and sped in the opposite direction. He realized one of the reasons that could be causing the circuit overload. He headed towards the one place, he knew none of the guards would check. Because the control room wasn’t the only place where someone could tamper with the main circuits. Striding purposefully, ensuring that no one was following him, he finally reached the door he was looking for. Cobwebs had formed on a sign next to the door that read, ‘District 2 Training Centre.’ Mon El brushed away the dust on the glass and peeked in through it.

Sure enough, he saw a boy in the room.

Not wanting to spook the kid, who seemed quite engrossed in his work, Mon El lightly tapped the glass door before he entered the small room. The moment the doors hissed open, he observed as the little boy turned suddenly, his face sporting the look of pure alarm. Observing his wide eyes, along with the fear that resided in them, Mon El instantly spoke in a calm manner. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said with his hands in front of him, gesturing for the boy to calm down. “It’s alright. I’m not here to report you.” Quietly closing the door behind him, so as to ensure no one else found out that the kid was here, he said, “You’re not in any trouble, okay?”

It took a while, before the boy finally calmed down a little, as Mon El noticed how he let go of a breath that the poor kid didn’t even realize he was holding in. As soon as he appeared somewhat okay, no longer startled by Mon El’s presence, Mon El walked over towards him. “You mind if I sit here?” he asked, pointing to the empty chair next to the boy. As the boy numbly nodded, Mon El smiled a little and settled down. “What’s your name?” he asked.

The boy remained quiet for a minute or so, before he finally replied in a near whisper. “... Quentin”

“Nice to meet you, Quentin,” Mon El responded. “I’m Mon El.”

The boy kept staring at Mon El, not believing he was really here. It took quite some time before the boy finally relaxed a little, enough to finally speak up. “So…,” he began a little hesitantly. “I’m not in trouble?” he asked, timidly.

In response, Mon El simply looked at him and smiled. He shook his head no, sincerely, conveying to the boy that he had nothing to worry about. “But,” he added, “I should mention that cutting off the electricity to the entire Training Centre, so you wouldn’t have to train, doesn’t work.” 

The boy appeared absolutely startled at this. “How…” he struggled, “How did you know?” he asked.

To this, Mon El paused a little, considering his own response before replying. “Because years ago… I almost caused a blackout for the very same reason.” Observing the wide eyed boy, Mon El continued. “I was eight. My dad had just enrolled me in the Academy and… I hated this place. I didn’t wanna learn how to fight. I didn’t wanna train to become a Career and one day volunteer for the Games. So, one day, I was walking down the corridor when I found this place. The old training centre.”

Before the advanced Training Centre of 2 was constructed, future Careers trained in an old centre, far less state-of-the-art than the current one. Once the new Academy had been built, the use of the old building, though it was connected internally to the Academy, was simply discarded, while the building was left abandoned. It was merely a relic, until Mon El had discovered something strange about the place. As it had turned out, the power supply for the old training centre was still drawn from the main circuits of the Academy. No one had noticed to break the connection. And, since the new training rooms made use of high power consuming devices such as holograms, the power line that ran through the old centre, simply caused an overload on the main circuits. All one had to do was switch on some high electricity consuming elements in the old building, and it would cause a total blackout in both centres.

“So you’re… okay with this?” The boy asked slowly.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Mon El winked. “I mean the trainers can get pretty annoying sometimes,” he smirked. 

This finally earned a smile from Quentin, as he finally relaxed in Mon El’s presence. The two of them sat like that, for a while, observing the footage on the old surveillance screens that were in front of them, enjoying, as panicked guards hurried to find the cause of the power overload. The smiles quickly died down. Neither talked for the longest time, a near comfortable silence settling between them. Mon El observed the doubt on the boy’s face. He knew something was bothering him. He knew something was wrong. But he also knew that the only way he could get him to talk to him about it, was if he took his own time to let it out. He understood, better than most, just how stubborn Careers could be. Soon-to-be Careers were even more so.

“Was it difficult when you took a life?” Quentin suddenly asked, bringing the silence between them to an abrupt halt, startling Mon El with his words.

Mon El looked at him, unsure of how he could answer. It took him a minute to consider his question, to understand just what the words meant, what they stood for. Looking at him, Mon El could tell that Quentin wasn’t older than nine, maybe ten years old. For a child of his age, to ask a question as harsh as he had just asked, was cruel. Even more so, however, was the fact that what had happened was indeed a norm in District 2. After all, that was exactly what the Training Centre was known for, wasn’t it? For producing killers. For developing monsters.

For creating a Career.

“Yes,” Mon El answered, the lone word, along with the way he had said it, more than enough to convey just how difficult it truly was to kill someone. “It’s the worst feeling ever.”

Quentin exhaled deeply and looked down at the ground. He paused for a moment, before he began falteringly, “It’s been a week,... since I enrolled. I didn’t wanna… I didn’t want to, but mom says I have to. That becoming a Career is my duty to my District.

Mon El sighed internally, dejectedly. The Capitol had truly led innocent people to believe that killing was a duty to their own districts.

“I thought it would get better, as I trained,” Quentin continued. “But… I just… I don’t wanna kill anyone. In archery, they taught us target practice with holograms… I tried… I really did, but I couldn’t shoot them. I know they’re just holograms. I know they’re not real persons but… they… they look…”

“They look like real persons,” Mon El concluded, understanding exactly what the poor boy was going through. He recalled how students around Quentin’s age were shifted to the advanced training section, where, rather than simple target markers to practice on, they were taught to practice with human-like holograms. They were faceless, robotic, three-dimensional holograms that took the forms of persons, and made it so that the students were actually fighting real people. It was meant to give future Careers a taste of what actual combat was like. To show them how difficult it was to use weaponry efficiently, when the targets were moving. The guilt that accompanied claiming a life, the weight of it that they would need to carry around for the rest of their lives wasn’t part of the curriculum, however.

Mon El found it difficult to speak for the longest time, as he tried to figure out just what he could say in such a situation. How could he hope to help the boy? How could he possibly explain to him just how terrible it felt? 

“I didn’t wanna train either,” he began. “I never wanted to set foot in this place. But… something my dad taught me stuck with me. It helped me a lot, over the years.” Remembering the exact moment that his Earth-father had given him, what would prove to be life-saving advice, Mon El said, “He told me that training here doesn’t mean I’m preparing to kill people. It means I’m learning how to defend myself. It means I’m learning to use all these weapons well enough, so that I never ever hurt anyone by accident.” He conveniently left out the part where his dad had told him how necessary it was to be able to defend himself, since he was an alien on Terra.

Observing as the boy next to him appeared to be deep in thought, Mon El continued. “You don’t have to kill, you know?” he whispered “Not wanting to kill… doesn’t make you weak. You don’t have to know what it’s like to kill someone, to know that it’s never the right thing to do. You can choose to not find out what it’s like.”

Mon El could see how his words were beginning to affect Quentin, as he appeared deep in thought. He could see the uncertainty that the notion had caused in his mind. How he wished to believe in what he had been told, but couldn’t know for sure.

Mon El sighed, somewhat dejectedly. While a part of him had hoped that he could somehow save an innocent kid such as the one next to him, from the cruel reality that they lived in, a larger part knew well enough why his efforts would fail. Quentin was just one of the many kids that trained in 2’s Academy to grow up to become ruthless killers. He was in this situation, because that was how his District had allowed for things to be. Career Districts had long accepted their fate, regarding the Hunger Games. The people here had therefore normalized killing. It was why a kid such as Quentin, rather than worrying about his grades on a math test in school, was worried about killing someone.

Instantly, Mon El realized something, a different approach. “Do you remember the oath of a Career, the one they teach in school?” he asked, pulling Quentin out of his reverie.

Quentin instantly nodded. “To be a Career is to fight with no fear…”

“And never back down, in honour we persevere.” Mon El finished. “Do you know what that means?” he asked. “What it actually means to be a Career?” Quentin remained silent, prompting Mon El to continue. “It means that a Career is a warrior that fights with dignity. That we value honour above all else. So, tell me, if you do something that you don’t want to, how could you truly honour it?” His words were finally starting to make sense to the boy. Taking note of this, Mon El continued. “Being a Career is about fighting for what you believe in. It’s about doing the right thing. We train, so that one day, we can fight for what we believe in. So that we can defend what is right. That’s your duty to the district.” Mon El smiled a little, as he realized how his last statement finally seemed to convince Quentin. He could see realization dawning on the poor kid, accompanied with relief that he did indeed have a way out of the situation.

He looked up at Mon El and responded in a sincere tone, “Thank you.” It was the first time Mon El had seen him smile.

“Tell you what,” Mon El said with a smile of his own. “Why don’t we head back to the training centre and practice target shooting the proper way? With wooden boards marked with circles.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I can even give you some tips, if you like.”

“I’d like that.”

With that, the duo got up. With one final look at the surveillance monitors, ensuring none of the guards were around, they turned and walked back inside the building, heading straight for the archery room.

Ten minutes later, Quentin was standing in the centre of the room, while Mon El was setting up the final target board in position. “Okay,” he said, while finishing up with the boards. “Now, what is the first thing you gotta do?”

“Familiarize yourself with the weight of the bow,” Quentin replied in an almost rehearsed manner. “Don’t clutch it, let it rest in your hand.”

“Good,” Mon El remarked. He then walked over to the far side of the wall and stopped before the numerous bows that were neatly kept on shelves studded in the wall. He failed to notice the slight tremor in his right hand, as he picked up the weapon with his left. Gripping the bow lightly, he walked over to where Quentin was standing and stood next to him. As soon as they were both in position, identical sleek trays slid open on either side, containing a neatly stacked array of polished, metallic arrows. Picking one of them from the tray closest to him, Mon El continued, “Now, most people have problems with nocking the arrow quickly, but there’s a technique to that. One that’ll make it easier for you, when you try speed-shooting.” Holding the arrow in his hand, he continued. “They teach you to grab the arrow in your hand and nock it in, right?” As the boy nodded, Mon El instantly shifted the arrow shaft in his fingers, so that now, only two fingers were holding it. “Instead, try holding it in just two fingers. That way, when you’re removing it from the quiver, you can simply pull it up,” he demonstrated, pulling the arrow from an imaginary quiver on the ground, “twist it and nock it in.” He swiftly spun the arrow, the head pointing in the proper direction, and without even needing to look at the bowstring, nocked the arrow. He observed as an amazed Quentin gaped at him. “Pretty quick, huh?” he smiled. 

He noted how quick a learner the boy was, as it took him only a few tries to get a rather good grasp on the technique. “Now, the rest is a simple, four-step process. Grip the string, take aim, focus on posture and fire. Simple enough, right?” He readied his own stance, noticing from the corner of his eyes as Quentin mirrored his actions. “String…” He pulled the bowstring taut, “aim…,” he closed one eye and focussed on the target board ahead, “posture,” he rolled his shoulders and corrected his stance, “and…”

Suddenly, a violent tremor ran through his hand. The abruptness, along with the sheer intensity of the shudder, caught him by surprise, causing him to almost drop the arrow and grab his hand in pain. His eyes instantly shifted from the target and landed on his trembling fingers. He took note of how violently his hand was shaking now. He had suffered tremors in his right hand quite a few times these past few months. However, this was the first time that his hand had shuddered as violently, as intensely as it was now. He tried his level best to control it. He relaxed the grip he had on the arrow, in the hopes of alleviating the pain. But the tremor didn’t stop. It continued just as violently, a sharp pain running all through his right arm now.

Just then, his eyes caught something in front of him. He observed with incredulous eyes, still trying to get his trembling hand under control, as the target board on the far end of the room transformed into something else. He stared, unable to look away, as the training room disappeared from view. Instead, he was suddenly standing in a field of grass, green extending in every direction. There was a large construct at the far end, but Mon El couldn’t tell. He was focussed instead on where the target board was placed not seconds ago. But it was gone now. Something else took its place. Someone else.

“... Thank you,” she whispered.

Mon El couldn’t breathe. He could no longer hope to control the tremor, as it shook more violently than it had ever before. He dared not to blink, for all he could do was stare into the eyes of a person, the absence of whom had plagued his memories, his nightmares ever since he had returned from the arena. A part of him noticed how her eyes appeared grateful. How could she be thankful to him. After he had failed to save her. After he had killed her himself.

“Fire!” 

Quentin’s voice pulled him out of his reverie, causing him to blink. All of a sudden, just as abruptly as it had begun, everything returned to normal. He looked around him and realized suddenly, how he was back in the archery training room of the District 2 Academy. He looked back in front of him, a target board replacing the person he thought he saw. It made him realize he had imagined everything. None of it was real, no matter how real it had felt. He was here, in District 2. He was no longer in the arena of the 74th Annual Hunger Games. How could he be? He had gotten out. He was alive. The moment he had replayed in his mind was evidence to that. 

Because he had survived by killing Sam.

“Was that good?” Quentin query reached his ears, but only barely. It caused him to inhale sharply a few times, regaining enough of a composure to be able to form words in order to answer the boy.

“Uh- Yeah,” he said in a hoarse voice, “Yeah… Just like that.” He struggled to catch his breath, as the vivid memories from seconds ago filled his mind. He could feel his throat tightening up, as the walls around him began closing in on him. He couldn't stay here. He couldn't breathe. He needed to get away from here. He needed to escape the nightmare. “You should uh-... Keep practicing," Mon El managed in a near whisper, “I need to-... I need to take care of something." With that, he put both the bow and arrow back in place and clutching his right hand with his left, rushed towards the metallic door and hurried out the training room. He needed some air, he realized, as he frantically headed towards the one place in the entire Training Centre that could calm him down somewhat. The one place that he had frequented during his time here. He dashed across the metallic corridors and continued to run until he reached a door that was labelled with a sign board that read  _ ‘Restricted Access.' _

The door was similar in its metallic grey appearance with every door on the floor. There was nothing different, nothing peculiar about it, barring the sign that said that only select people were allowed inside. Only someone who had spent most of his childhood in the Academy, however, could tell that the door stood out in another way. Every door in the Academy was marked with a cluster of wires that ran across the boundary. They were meant for the closed circuit cameras that were strategically positioned all across the floor, monitoring the comings and goings of every door.

Except for this one.

Mon El pushed open the door and hurried through it. He had been here before, countless times. Just to get away from everything, when he couldn’t run to the forests. He would come here every time he would feel the constant eyes of the Capitol boring down on him. Because this was the one place in the entire Academy that wasn’t burdened with surveillance. Here, he could be sure no one was watching. Here he could be himself.

He rushed up the narrow staircase that led to the building’s roof. He couldn’t stop. The walls were closing in on him. He couldn’t breathe. A part of him realized how he was almost panting now, owing to the lack of air. Something was constricting his chest. It was weighing down on him, causing him to gasp for air. All the while, his hand was still shaking. The tremors were becoming more violent now, to the point that it hurt his arm. He needed to escape this. He needed to breathe.

As soon as he reached the door to the terrace, he pushed it with a little more strength than was necessary, causing it to crack a little under his strength and unhinge a little from the frame. But he didn’t care. He focussed solely on his breathing. He walked rapidly over to the open area, before his legs finally gave, as he fell heavily down to his knees. He clutched his trembling hand tightly, as he took in deep breaths in order to calm himself. The cold, fresh air outside finally made breathing a little easier, as he gulped down on the rush of oxygen. 

He looked down at his trembling hand. It was a reminder of what had transpired not minutes ago in the training room. As he replayed the moments in his mind, he realized the turmoil that had taken over his thoughts. He recalled the sudden, intense panic that had reigned over his mind, when he had tried to release the arrow. The pain had been so sudden, it had caught him by surprise. The ache was still clogging his mind, confining him to a place where he saw nothing but misery, nothing but agony. Desperately, he closed his eyes.

That was when he saw her.

A tear-drop spilled from his eyes as he brought to mind Samantha Arias, his fellow Career in the 74th Annual Hunger Games. He remembered her final moments in the arena, her final moments on Terra itself. All of a sudden, things became painfully clear to him. His hand had been suffering tremors ever since he had returned from the arena. He realized now that the reason behind them was rather simple. His right hand was the one that had released the arrow that day. It was the one that had caused the death of an alien not unlike him. Something had changed since that moment. When he had last seen Sam alive, she had been thanking him, moments before he had shot her. He realized now, that that was what had changed. Ever since that horrid day, a permanent guilt had settled in his heart. One that prevented him from forgetting just what he had done. One that, he was sure, would never fully go away.

When he had nocked the arrow in the training room downstairs, the guilt had intervened. It had prevented him from releasing the arrow, for, it had failed to do so before. He had been unable to stop before. He had released the arrow and caused an innocent alien’s death that day. He could never let something like that happen again. His guilt wouldn’t let him. 

Suddenly, Mon El heard footsteps coming from behind him. He instantly recognized whom they belonged to. Pulling himself together, still unable to actually get up and face the man behind him, he spoke in a tired voice.

“I’m really not in the mood for a lecture,” he said, in a somewhat shaky voice, doing his best to hide the overwhelming guilt that still filled his mind. “I’ll apologize to Walter later.”

He received nothing but silence for a long moment, before Wells finally responded. “He had it coming,” he said. “I don’t see any reason for you to apologize.” There was nothing but silence after that, as Mon El tried to calm himself, while Wells looked at him questioningly. “You okay?” he finally asked.

In response, Mon El exhaled slowly, in a controlled manner, as he quickly wiped away the tears and answered curtly, “I’m fine.” Taking note of how the tremor had weakened somewhat now, he slowly, steadily rose from the ground and turned to face Wells. “Just wanted some fresh air,” he responded to a query he knew was on his mentor’s mind.

To this, Wells shot him a knowing look, but didn’t ask any further. They remained quiet for a few minutes, seemingly lost in thought, before Wells began. “I ran into a student of yours downstairs,” he said, referring to what he had seen in the archery room. “He’s pretty good. He might grow up to be almost as good as you.”

“I’d rather he didn't,” Mon El said, numbly.

“Why not?” Wells asked, looking at him with a peculiar look. “Why wouldn’t you want him to be like one of the greatest survivors in Panem?”

Mon El huffed, as he turned away from Wells, the guilt becoming more difficult to conceal by the minute. “I know the cost of surviving the arena. I wouldn’t want him to pay it.”

“He may not have a choice,” Wells replied. “And besides,

You’ve survived a lot more than just the arena.”

Something about the way Wells had said those words, caught Mon El’s attention. He realized how his hand stopped trembling altogether, while panic grew inside him. ‘Survived a lot more than the arena?’ What could his mentor possibly mean by it?

“I remember when you came out of the arena,” Wells continued, seemingly unaware of the panicked state of mind that the alien in front of him was in. “The state you were in. Granted, you were unconscious for most of it, but… there were moments when even the doctors were a little worried.”

Mon El hoped his intuition was wrong. He hoped what Wells had said about him surviving much more had nothing to do with his mentor indeed knowing the Daxamite’s true origins. He was still facing away from him, unaware of his fear.

“And then, something incredulous happened,” Wells said, as Mon El listened carefully. “After the surgery, they had kept you under observation for some time. I was there in the room, when all of a sudden,...” Mon El continued to listen with bated breath. “According to one of the monitors,...” Wells continued, “your heart stopped. You flatlined.”

Mon El turned and faced him, seemingly taken aback by what he had said.

Wells, on the other hand, appeared calm. “I was the first to find out, so I reacted quickly,” he continued. “I checked for a pulse first, in case the monitor was wrong… That was when I got a strange humming vibration off of your chest. I checked your pulse from your wrist,... That was when I realized.”

“Your heart hadn’t stopped. It was beating faster than the EKG could register.”

Mon El tried to calm himself as he realized the implication of what Wells was telling him now. Of what he had observed when he was unconscious.

“You’re not just allergic to lead, are you?” Wells asked, a knowing look on his face. “It’s fatal to you, like it is to no other human.”

No other human.

He knew, Mon El realized. Harrison Wells knew.

“What are you talking about?” Mon El gave it a weak attempt to somehow deny everything. To this, however, Wells flashed a disappointed look at him, in response. 

He paused for a second, before he said, “You’re an excellent liar, Mon El. You didn’t fumble, you maintained eye-contact, you blinked when necessary. It was very convincing.” He paused again, before he said, “But I’m afraid that the very fact that your reaction was so convincing, just proves my point for me.” He waited for a shift in Mon El’s eyes. For a long second, he waited for them to reveal the truth, reveal what he felt in that very moment. To Mon El’s credit, however, he remained stoic. Wells was impressed. 

“Well, if you’re sure,” he continued, “Maybe I made a mistake,” Wells shrugged his shoulders. “But, it doesn’t change the fact that I did witness something strange that day. I suppose as a responsible citizen, I should just go and report it.” With that, he turned and made his way towards the nearly broken terrace door. He was nearly a step away from it, when suddenly, a spark flew from the doors, forming an electric barrier of sorts by the doorframe, preventing Wells from stepping through it. His lips curved into a smirk, as he slowly turned and observed a determined looking Mon El, with one of his arms extended in his direction. What was peculiar, however, was that Mon El’s eyes were glowing with electricity.

“Not one word,” Mon El slowly lowered his arm and blinked away both the electricity in his eyes, along with the barrier he had created.

* * *

“You gave me your word!” The woman exclaimed.

George was downright irritated by how persistent the woman in front of him was. As assistant to the head-gamemaker, he had dealt with his fair share of stubborn people. The woman in front of him, however, was a new level altogether. 

“We had a deal-,” she continued.

“Yes, we  _ did, _ ” George finally interrupted her. “And then you went away for an entire week.”

“I was sent away,” she argued. “You said you had information about Seneca Crane’s death. You said it was extremely important. You promised you would tell me.”

“It doesn’t matter. Our deal was null and void the moment you cancelled our meeting five days ago.”

“I told you, they sent me away. I had to be in 12 for the week. It was only one week. Seven days”

George simply shook his head. “A lot changes over seven days, Miss Lu-” 

“Lena’s fine,” the woman stopped him.

He nodded his head, as he continued. “I thought that the information I had about Crane’s death was important five days ago, but not anymore. I know now that it’s not relevant. So there’s nothing to tell anymore.”

“If it’s not relevant, why won’t you tell me?” Lena argued.

“Because,” he insisted, “as I have been saying for the past ten minutes, there is nothing to tell,” he stressed on every word of the latter part of his statement. 

“You were his assistant, George,” Lena exclaimed. “How could you do this to him?”

“I am the assistant to the head-gamemaker, Lena. Seneca  _ was _ at the post. He isn’t anymore. I’m sorry about his death, but you need to move on. You already know the official version. Severe cardiac arrest.”

“To hell with the official version!” Lena said, a little too loudly, drawing attention from the customers scattered across the cafe. She instantly lowered her voice, as she continued. “You and I both know that’s not true.”

George shook his head. “No, I had my doubts before, but I know now, that it is the truth. Seneca Crane died of natural causes. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you can get over it. You just gotta let it go.” With that, George finally got up from his seat.”Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he said, preparing to leave, “I don’t wanna keep the  _ current _ head-gamemaker waiting.” With that, he bid Lena farewell and left her alone at the table.

Lena huffed in frustration. She felt anger rising within her. She could not most certainly, ‘let this go.’

She instantly began charting out her plan of action now.

* * *

“So, what’s the plan here?” Wells asked, not seeming worried about being trapped on the roof with an alien, or anything at all. “I mean, I’m not the one you should be worried about.”

“Why?” Mon El asked, curtly. It had startled him, to say the least, that his mentor knew about his alien origins. He didn’t know how Wells knew for sure, but the one thing he knew very clearly, was that Wells knew. His mentor wasn’t the type of person who liked to remain doubtful about a situation. He played his cards close to his chest. Had Wells been unsure about Mon El’s true identity, he never would’ve revealed it.

Wells sighed, a little disappointedly. Shaking his head, he said, “You’re asking the wrong question.” He looked at him directly in the eyes, as he continued, “C’mon, Mon El, you’re my student. Listen to what your instincts are telling you. They’ve helped you survive on Terra for this long, haven’t they? Think like the survivor you are-”

“Don’t start,” Mon El interrupted before Wells could say any further. “You know I’ve survived for this long on this planet. So you know exactly what I’m capable of-”

“Yes,”Wells interrupted him now, “I do. Which is why I’m asking you to think. Ask me the right question, and I will answer.”

Mon El sighed, irritatedly. The man was relentless. Going by how determined he was, it made sense that he found out about Mon El’s origins. If anything, he was surprised he hadn’t found out any sooner.

Wait.

“The people at the hospital,” Mon El said to no one in particular. “The Capitol doctors, they-... I flatlined, they would’ve known too.”

Wells smiled. “Now you’re on the right track. “The doctors would have spotted the anomaly, but they didn’t. What does that tell you?”

“That you covered it up,” Mon El realized. “You got rid of the anomaly.”

Wells flashed a satisfied smile at Mon El. “You were lucky that necklace of yours was nearby,” he said pointing to his chest. “A slight touch and your heart-rate quickly came back to normal, even before the doctors reached your room.”

“You’ve known since then,” Mon El said after a long moment of quiet. “You’ve probably known for sure since the whipping at the town square. Since you saw the sun lamps. But you didn’t report it to anyone. Instead, you told me…”

“And what does that tell you?” Wells asked.

“That you’re trying to protect me,” Mon El figured out. “Why?”

Wells looked at him and smiled. “Because I’m not the enemy. I’m not the one you should be worried about.”

“Then who should I worry about?” Mon El asked. “Someone at the Capitol?

“Think about why you’re here. Why you’re alive in the first place. Think back to the moment you were pulled out of the arena. Who did that?”

All of a sudden, Mon El realized what Wells had been getting at. He instantly understood the conclusion of his riddles. Wells knew, but he wasn’t the one Mon El needed to focus on. Someone else knew too. Someone who had pulled him out of the arena at the very last moment. Someone who had made the announcement personally. Someone who had even visited his own home days before he had pulled Mon El out of the Games.

Seneca Crane had known.

Mon El felt a shiver run through his spine at the thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Points to Consider:  
> 1\. Walter Schott and Mon El being the prince of sarcasm! (gettit, prince?!)  
> 2\. Wells fully supports Mon El in the snide remarks, by the way!  
> 3\. Quentin was almost going to be Val, but I changed it at the last minute, because I thought Val was way to young for this mess!  
> 4\. Wells knows!!   
> 5\. Lena's last name starts with an L.... We know this much now!😅
> 
> Thank You for Reading!  
> Until Next Time!


	14. Alien Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Because of you,... she died as who she was.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo...... A day late.... Yeah..... 
> 
> (Sorry!)

He knocked on the wooden doors tensely.

Mon El took in a deep breath to calm himself. He brought his hand to his face, stroking his chin as a nervous habit. When he had left his house in the morning, it had been with purposeful, determined steps to get here. It was something he had to do, something he should have done a long time ago, but had been putting off, ever since he had returned home from the arena. Repeating it as a mantra to himself, he had walked towards the houses that were situated near the outskirts of District 2, not far from the fence. The houses that were situated more or less near the District boundary were vastly different than the ones that were built relatively near the centre. Rather than the metallic, bleak houses of the relatively richer crowd of 2, the outskirts were mostly occupied with wooden houses and poorer citizens. Until a few months ago, Mon El lived in one such house. The victor of the 74th Annual Hunger Games, however, as he was told, didn’t belong here.

As he had walked down the familiar path that passed from in front of his old house, Mon El had actually felt quite at peace. It was the familiarity of the view, the peaceful solitude of the area that he realized that he quite cherished. The distinct lack of the numerous surveillance cameras, along with the subtle differences that existed between the outskirts and the inner houses, such as the scattered splotches of grass here, that gradually gave way to the dense forest that lay beyond the district’s fence, put his mind at ease, allowing him to let his guard down just a little, and feel the comfort of home that he had so missed over the past months since he had returned from the arena. It had made his journey towards his destination somewhat easier. As an alien growing up on Terra, the solitary atmosphere had been quite favourable. It had provided to him a sense of security. It was one of the many reasons he missed his old home.

But he wasn’t here to visit it, today. Rather than stopping at the old Roqford residence, he had passed it, continuing on towards a rather foreign part of the outskirts. He had made his way towards a small wooden house that lay some distance behind his old house. His house though relatively isolated, was still in the vicinity of a handful of houses, all merely metres away. This one, however, was almost entirely isolated, surrounded by nothing more than a field of short, dry grass. Mon El had never been here before. Growing up, he had seldom noticed the house. 

At the time, however, he had no idea how close to another alien he had been living.

As he stood in front of the solid door now, staring at the slightly rusted plaque that read,  _ ‘Arias’ _ , his courage began depleting. As he waited before the entrance, he realized he was not at all looking forward to facing the person that would answer the door. How could he? How was he supposed to face the person, he had no idea. What would he say? How would he start? The questions had been haunting him ever since he had decided to finally visit Sam’s mother, and uphold the final promise he had made to his fellow Career in the arena, moments before she had died. 

Moments before he had killed her.

It had been two weeks since he had suffered a panic attack at the District 2 Academy. Two weeks, since he had realized, that rather than a skill he was quite proficient in, archery had now become something that brought to mind a memory so appalling that it had made him avoid the archery room altogether, staying as far away from it, as possible. The memory however, had stayed with him. The guilt that arose from it, now occupied a permanent place within his conscience. It had reminded him of Sam’s final moments in the arena with stark clarity. He could recall the arrow in her abdomen, her strained voice, her pained face. Of it all, however, her final words to him that day, had been replaying in his mind nearly every waking second of every day.

_ ‘If… when you go back to 2, go to my house. Meet my mother... tell her everything that really happened.’ _

The words had been a constant companion of his ever since he had returned from the arena. How could they not have been, for it was her final request to him. When he had first returned home, he had tried, every single day, to visit her house. He had struggled to find a way to somehow muster up the courage that he needed to face Sam’s mother. To tell her just how sorry he was for what he had done in the arena, for killing her daughter. Doing so, however, had become more difficult with time, for there came a day, when he realized that even looking at the lone house caused him nothing but pain. Somewhere down the line, the pain had become so unbearable, that he had almost termed the task a lost cause. That was until two weeks ago, when he had harshly been reminded of reality. Because irrespective of how difficult it got, irrespective of how much it hurt him to recall the events of the arena, he needed to tell Sam’s mother what had actually transpired in the final moments of the 74th Annual Hunger Games. He had to honour Sam’s final request. Her mother deserved to know the truth.

_ “It wasn’t your fault,” _ Kara had tried telling him. When he had met her nearly every day of the past two weeks, he had told her about everything that had happened on his first day back in the Training Centre. Owing to the verbal pact between them, that forbade any secrets, he had come clean regarding what had happened when he had tried to teach a kid how to shoot arrows. The Kryptonian had, in turn, immediately gripped his hand with her alien strength and had comforted him. Upon hearing that Mon El planned on paying Sam’s mother a visit, she had even offered to come with him. 

_ “You don’t have to go through it alone,” _ she had insisted.

_ “I know, but,... I can’t ask you to risk being seen in 2 because of this,” _ Mon El had argued.

_ “Well, you’re not asking,” _ she had exclaimed.  _ “I’m offering. I can stay hidden and… be there for you.” _

Only when Mon El had reminded her of the numerous peacekeepers of the Guard, had she finally settled for his answer, but not before putting forth the condition that Mon El would tell her about how it went the very day after. Mon El had been touched by the sincerity in her words. It had alleviated some of his pain, knowing just how strongly she believed that what had happened in the arena wasn’t his fault. He was grateful for her, in that, he could share with her exactly what it was like remembering Sam, and her final moments in the arena, for she had been there, by his side through it all. He was thankful for a companion as her. Someone who could give him the strength, the courage to face even the most dire of situations.

Suddenly, the door before him opened.

Mon El looked at the older woman that stood in front of him now. As he looked directly in her eyes, he suddenly felt his mind going blank. Nothing but a single thought remained, as he stared at the amber eyes, as the woman stared back at him, an indecipherable look on her face.

Sam had had her mother’s eyes.

As he stared at her with wide eyes, Mon El was reminded of Sam with a renewed clarity. All the courage that he had mustered to get here suddenly drained away. He could feel every ounce of strength trickling away, under the unwavering gaze of Mrs Arias. In that one moment, he realized just how unprepared he had been for this. He realized that nothing he could do could ever have prepared him for the intense guilt that he felt now. He had taken something away from this woman. He had hurt her in a way that he could never make up for. Noting the pain in her eyes, the agony in them, only furthered his guilt. But there was nothing he could do. No forgiveness he could ask for. He had killed her daughter. There was no pardon for it.

Mon El half expected the woman to slam the door on his face. She had earned a right to do so. He stood there, motionless, awaiting her reaction. A few moments passed in heavy silence, when finally, the woman moved. But rather than proceeding to close the door, she moved a little to the side and opened the door a little more, creating space for the man on the doorstep to enter.

It took Mon El a few seconds before he realized that rather than shooing him away, she was indeed inviting him inside her home, a few more seconds to will his legs to move. Neither her, nor him said a single word, as Mon El finally stepped through the threshold of the house.

* * *

Kara walked out of her house with determined steps.

The sun was shining in the clear skies like a lone ball of fire, spreading light all across the snowed scenery of District 12. The radiation of the yellow sun invigorated her. She could sense the beginnings of a pleasant day. With every step she took, every house she passed, she observed as the ordinary citizens of 12 carried on with their usual routines, glad to have relatively warmer weather amidst the snow storm they had been enduring for the past week. But Kara hardly noticed the change at all. She didn’t indulge in the beautiful weather like everyone else. She was on a mission today.

Walking swiftly past the District laboratory, she checked all around her for peacekeepers stationed nearby. Once she was sure that the coast was clear, she quickly continued on towards the isolated parts of the district fence. As she approached the small fault in the fence, she checked around her one final time, ensuring there were no unwanted eyes nearby and ducked below the weak spot in the barricade, crossing over to the other side. 

It had become routine for her now, for she had been visiting the forest regularly. Ever since she had been cooped up in her victor’s mansion for the District day celebration, she had looked for any and every excuse to go out. The forest had proven to be the perfect place for her to relax. It had given her the peace, the serenity that she had desperately been looking for from the moment Effie had set foot in her house and had stayed over for two whole weeks. Ever since the celebration, the mansion, anywhere in the district really, had become marked with close surveillance. For the Kryptonian, that meant constant vigilance. But not in the forest. Out here, in the forest, she didn’t have to pretend to be something she was not. Out here, she could be herself.

And then of course, there was the added advantage of meeting Mon El.

Kara had grown quite fond of their meetings. Everyday, the two aliens, coming from the two districts that were considered uncompromising enemies, owing to the events of the 74th Annual Hunger Games, had been meeting near the majestic waterfalls situated deep in the forest. Everyday they had been sharing their thoughts, everything that they had gone through in the day, and how they felt about the numerous things that the Capitol forced upon their subjects on a daily basis. If Kara were to repeat even half of what she truly felt about the Capitol to someone inside the boundaries of District 12, she was sure President Snow would personally carry out her execution. It was therefore nice to have someone to talk to about everything that she had been bottling up in her mind ever since she had returned from the arena.

And it had helped, more than she ever could have imagined. Talking about her experiences in the Games, of everything she had been through right from the moment she had heard her best friend’s name being called out during the reaping, had made her feel as though an invisible burden, that she had been carrying for so long, had finally been lifted off her shoulders. Her parents had given her strength to recall the painful memories. Her best friend had been there for her. Talking to Henry, her mentor in the Games, had helped her in more ways than one. He too, was like her, a victor in the Games. Along with her own struggles, she had helped him fight his own hardships from his time as a tribute. Talking about everything had brought her to terms with everything that had happened in the arena. It had given her the courage she had so needed to mourn Rue, to remember her, to honour her memory.

_ “She’d be happy, you’re happy,” _ Mon El had told her. It had made her imagine a time where the Games didn’t exist. Where kids weren’t thrown into a death match for reasons well beyond anyone’s understanding. Where innocent lives weren’t either killed or turned into murderers. She realized how she yearned for such a world. A world where Rue could survive, could live.

Suddenly, she heard voices coming from somewhere ahead.

Deep in the forest now, Kara whipped her head and looked around her. Seeing nothing but thick green leaves and tall tree trunks, Kara continued on, with utmost caution, in the direction of the sound. The voices were getting slightly louder now. The implication that voices meant someone was there, didn’t scare her. 

It was where the voices were coming from that made her blood run cold.

Because they were emanating from the one place in the forest that she couldn’t let a stranger come across. She hadn’t visited in a long time herself, in order to protect its secret. A secret that was incredibly dear to her. Ever since she had landed on Terra, her parents had worked very hard to protect that secret, for it was one that could instantly make anyone realize about Kara Zorel’s true origins. 

When Mon El had told Kara about Wells, about Seneca Crane knowing about him being an alien, her mind had instantly thought of the place that she often used to visit as a child growing up on the alien world that was Terra. Whenever she would feel alone, or lost, she would always go there to seek guidance from the one person, one voice that was more familiar to her than anything else.

_ “Your pod’s buried in the ground.” _ Mon El had tried to reassure her.  _ “No one would come across. And even if they do, they'll never be able to associate it to you.” _

_ “No, but they can,” _ Kara had explained.  _ “The pod I came here in, it contains communication beads from Krypton. They have messages and recordings that my birth-mother sent with me for when I reached Earth.” _

The recordings, the voice of her birth-mother, of whom she had no recollection, owing to the deep travel through space, had been her lone source of comfort in the early days and the particularly tough times on Earth. They had always given her the strength, the stability to endure one day after another on as hostile a planet as Earth, a reassuring reminder that even though she couldn’t remember it, her birth-mother had been a caring woman who had loved Kara very much, for she had ensured that her daughter would never be alone on the alien planet that she was sending her to, in order to save her life. As long as she had that voice, she had always known that she would never be alone.

_ “They won’t take that away from you.” _ Mon El had voiced the biggest concern in her mind. There were few things on Earth that belonged to her home world. She couldn’t bear to think that the Capitol could take that away from her. After having lost her world, her people, even memories of her birth-parents, the pod and the messages it carried had been her final link to home. Mon El understood exactly what it meant to her. He could tell just how important it was to her, for he too had gone through the desperation, the yearning to remember his own birth-family. He knew what it was like to face this planet alone. It brought a smile to her face, as she realized how much Mon El’s presence had made a difference. To have someone from home, to no longer be the only alien on Earth. 

To no longer be alone.

_ ‘This way, ma’am.’ _

The sound of a conversation pulled her out of her thoughts, as she swiftly moved past thick green shrubs and hid behind a tree. Her suspicion had been right. Going from the voices, there were two people who were approaching the grounds where her pod was buried. She could tell they were on foot, for she couldn’t hear any vehicles nearby. Remaining hidden, she tuned in her hearing and picked up on the conversation that the people were having. 

_ ‘He had walked in this direction for some distance,’ _ the man was recalling some event.

_ ‘And how long had you stopped for?’ _ the woman enquired. Kara noted vaguely how her voice sounded familiar.

_ ‘About an hour. But Mr Crane was gone for about fifteen, maybe twenty minutes,’ _ the man replied.

Kara’s blood ran cold at the mention of the name of the head-gamemaker for the 74th Annual Hunger Games. ‘Seneca Crane was here?’ she thought, fear running through her mind. The man, as she had learned a few days ago, had known that Mon El was an alien. At least as per what Harrison Wells thought. But going by how highly Mon El had spoken of his mentor’s intelligence, Kara knew she couldn’t take this suspicion lightly. After all, Crane had pulled both Kara and Mon El out from the arena, for reasons no one knew for sure. What if he had really known? And if so, the fact that he had been here, could mean…

_ ‘Why do you think he was here?’ _ the woman asked.

_ ‘A leisurely stroll, perhaps,’ _ the man answered, unsure himself.  _ ‘Although, he did seem quite happy when he returned. He was rushing towards the train. I remember, because I told him to be careful. It was raining, you see. The floor was all muddy and slippery.’ _

_ ‘Did he say why?’ _

_ ‘Not a clue. He just kept telling us to get going already. That he needed to reach the Capitol as quickly as possible.’ _

The woman fell silent at that. Kara waited, as the two of them remained silent for the longest time after that. A long minute passed, before the woman finally spoke up.

_ ‘I’ll look around for a bit, then we can leave,’ _ she said.

_ ‘Sure,’ _ the man replied.  _ ‘You want me to come with, or should I just wait inside the train?’ _ he asked.

_ ‘No, I’ll be fine. Oh and Stan, thank you for helping me. I’m not supposed to be here, so, no one can find out.’ _

_ ‘Sure thing, Lena,’ _ Stan replied.  _ ‘You know me. I’m just a train driver. I won’t go telling on you.’ _

As they parted ways, Stan headed back to the train, while Lena walked a little deeper into the forest. As soon as the coast was clear, Kara swiftly left her hiding spot behind the trees and super-sped away.

* * *

Mon El sat still on a chair in the living room.

From the very moment he had set foot in the Arias residence, he had remained quiet. Right from the moment Mrs Arias had invited him into her home, she too hadn’t said a word. She had quietly walked over to the living room and sat down, prompting Mon El to do the same, as he sat on a chair on the opposite side of the room. The duo had been sitting in heavy silence for quite some time now, facing each other, but looking away. Heavy silence settled in the air around them, for neither had it in them to say anything.

Mon El struggled to find the right words. He tried to think of a way to begin, to tell her why he was here. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that there was nothing he could say, no words he could think of that could ease the terse situation even somewhat. What could he possibly say to her after everything that had happened in the arena? After he had lied to and manipulated her daughter in order to stay alive. How could he tell her about what her daughter had actually gone through. The pain, the fear that she had had to endure in her final moments in the arena. 

Mon El had seen the footage of the Games, the way it had been broadcasted, when he had returned home. He had seen how all of Panem had witnessed Sam's death. How the final moments in the arena had gone for them. Her death had been the conclusion of a so-called ‘epic’ battle between the final two remaining Careers in the arena. There had been numerous segments on Capitol TV detailing the fighting techniques of both Careers. Many had commented on the fight, on what was going through the minds of both the tributes. But none had even come close to the truth. What had really happened in the arena, had remained a secret, never to be revealed to the world. No one had seen Sam for who she really was. Mon El had ensured it. To the viewers, she had merely been a 'semi-finalist.' Just another Career. Just another piece in the Games. Few were aware of her true identity. Few people in Panem had seen her true form. Fewer so in District 2. Mon El was one.

The woman he was sitting across from was the other.

Mrs Arias had been quietly sitting on a chair on the opposite side of the room. The short-haired woman managed to maintain a stoic facade, making it impossible for anyone to tell what she was feeling. From the way she carried herself, not letting herself fall weak, not letting herself break, Mon El could tell that she was a strong-willed person. She would never let anyone see the pain that she had endured. She would mask it all. Her eyes, however, gave her away. Pained eyes behind the glasses she wore, spoke of tragedy, of the suffering that she had endured. Mon El noticed unshed tears that had gathered in her eyes. The mere sight was enough to fuel the storm that Mon El faced in his own mind. It was a reminder of how he was responsible for the woman’s loss. How he had wronged her. He observed how her eyes were looking away, not in the distance, but rather at something in particular. He followed her line of sight and looked at the object himself. The moment his own eyes lay on it, Mon El froze. He couldn’t look away.

A framed picture of Sam and her mother lay innocently on the mantle.

She appeared younger in this photograph. She appeared happier in it. Of all the times Mon El had seen her, Sam had always displayed an aura of confidence, carried herself with the audacity, the poise of a fighter, a warrior. But here, in this picture, she did not look anything like the deadly Career that he had known. Rather, she looked innocent. She looked happy. A warmth reflected in her eyes, while a peaceful smile adorned her face. Mrs Arias in the picture looked just as happy as her daughter. Rather than stoic, she appeared unburdened, untroubled. The picture was evidence of more peaceful times. It had captured a happy moment.

The mother-daughter duo in the photograph was long gone.

Mon El couldn’t help, as he suddenly felt overwhelmed by everything. The smile on Sam’s face, the warmth in her eyes, everything reminded him of her final moment in the arena. When she had been seconds away from dying. Sam had been smiling, when Mon El had last seen her face. When she had slowly fallen back into the minefield. She had been at peace with what was to come next. She had accepted it, accepted that there was nothing anyone could do to save her. She had known she was to die, the moment Mon El had stabbed her. She had accepted her fate.

A fate brought upon her by Mon El.

“I’m sorry.”

Mon El blurted it out, keeping his eyes fixed on the photograph. As he slowly turned back to face the woman in front of him, he noticed how Mrs Arias was no longer looking away. She was looking at him now, her eyes boring into his own. He looked back, looking into her eyes, staring at the pain they carried, with great difficulty. “I’m sorry,” he said with utmost sincerity. Taking a few deep breaths, he tried to compose himself, before he finally began.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he began. “I never meant to hurt anyone… I just… There’s something you should know.” He paused a little, trying to figure out exactly what he wished to say next. “I don’t want to remind you of a time you’d rather forget. I don’t wanna cause any more trouble… More than I’ve caused already. But,... she wanted you to know.”

He noticed how Mrs Arias instantly tensed a little, at the mention of her daughter. The two of them remained quiet for a long minute, before she finally spoke up in response.

“Wanted me to know what?” She asked, her voice a little strained.

Mon El took another deep breath, before he answered, “The truth. What really happened,... how she died.”

* * *

“How is the battery dead already?! I thought this thing was charged!” An irritated Lena exclaimed.

She stomped in the main cabin of the train and made her way towards her room. Once inside, she slammed the door shut, before heavily falling into a chair near the window. After all the things that had happened in the past few months, she felt like she totally should have seen this coming. Frustration had become her normal state of mind. Irritation had become a norm. Because for the past few months, every thing, every single thing had gone terribly and annoyingly wrong. Nothing had worked out for the District 12 designer from the moment she had set out on this mission. She had been facing one brick wall after another right from day one.

Lena dejectedly held her head in her hand, as she thought back to when it had all started.

One unread message on her comms datapad. One missed call from Seneca Crane.

Lena remembered it as though it had happened yesterday. She had been at the Sponsor’s centre, along with Effie, celebrating the rather peculiar victory of Kara Zorel, the female tribute turned victor from District 12. In all the commotion, she had missed a call from Seneca. (She would later find out that it had been his final call to anyone). About an hour later, holos all around the centre had announced the news:

‘Seneca Crane, head-gamemaker, found dead in his mansion in the outskirts of the Capitol.’

The news had shocked everyone in the training centre. People all around Lena had begun crying, mourning the passing of an artist. But for the designer of District 12, the shock had yet to sink in. When it did, it devastated the poor woman. Lena had managed to not react in front of anyone, maintaining the anonymity of her relationship with the head-gamemaker, but her team had seen right through her. They had watched, as Lena had mourned the passing of someone much closer than merely a celebrity. No one had known why it had affected her so deeply, yet no one had tried to ask, thinking it best to leave her be.

About a month later, when she had been packing to leave for the District 12 Victory Tour, she had found her communication’s datapad, near a stack of books. Deciding to take it with her, she had flipped it open, when she had finally noticed an unread message, dated about a month ago. Going weak in the knees, she had had to take the support of a nearby pillar when she had read the name that came with the message. It had been a short, cryptic line:

_ ‘Lex didn’t die in vain.’ _

The message had been short, concise. She had read it over and over again, but had failed to recognize the meaning behind it. After that, she had even tried to opt out of the Victory Tour, in order to figure things out, but had been unable to do so, for the designer in the public appearances of the team was a must. She had begrudgingly gone on the tour, all the while trying to think of what Seneca’s last message to her meant. ‘What could've happened, that he remembered Lex?’ ‘What was he trying to tell her?’ Questions had plagued her mind for weeks before all of a sudden, she had realized something. A realization that had got her right to work. She had begun investigating ever since. The investigation report about his death had only strengthened her suspicion. 

Seneca Crane had not died of natural causes.

Lena took in a deep breath. She looked at the device in her hand. It was a handheld scanner that could scrutinize various types of terrain and look for hidden objects based on the change in density. She had brought it with her, because she had had no clue regarding what she had been looking for. Whatever it was, she knew it had to be evidence. It could lead to more information about how Seneca had died. The device had been working fine on her train ride here, but the moment she had used it out there in the forest, in the place she actually intended to use it in, it had stopped functioning, before dying down entirely.

Lena tossed it aside in frustration.

The device not working was only the latest thing that had gone wrong for her. Shehad a hard time believing that nearly everything that she had tried to accomplish since she had begun on this mission, had gone sideways. First, when she had tried to ask for help from the peacekeepers about looking into the death of Seneca, they had downright refused to comply. After that, George, Seneca’s assistant, had contacted her, telling her that he had had some important information regarding the incident. When she had been unable to meet him on the day that they had decided, he had refused to give her the information. It was when George had insisted that there was nothing to tell at all, when Lena had finally realized the sheer scale of events. Whatever had happened with Seneca, it was something big. Something that a lot of people were trying to keep secret. 

That was when Lena had realized that she had to get stuff done on her own.

Calling in some favours, she found out that about two days before the grand finale of the 74th Annual Hunger Games, before Seneca died, he had set up an itinerary to visit District 2. She wasn’t sure why that was, but knew, either way that she might find some answers there. So, tracking down the driver who had taken Seneca on the trip, she set out to find out what had really happened. She had been unable to find out anything from the authorities in District 2, for, they had no idea that the head-gamemaker had even visited. ‘Strange,’ she had thought. Stranger was how, when the train had halted for refuelling near the boundaries of District 12, Seneca had wandered off into the woods and had returned about twenty minutes later excitedly, as per the train-driver. 

‘What did he find?’ Lena thought, as she looked out the window into the dense, green forest. ‘What am I missing?’

Unless…

“Ma’am,”

The knocking on her room door snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Ma’am, I’m afraid I have some bad news.” The voice belonged to Stan, the driver. “Turns out the train’s due for maintenance. We need to make a quick stop in 12 before we can carry on with our journey.”

Lena sighed. She knew how long a ‘quick stop’ lasted. Maintenance meant another hour’s delay at least.

‘Great,’ she thought, sarcastically. ‘What else was new?!’

* * *

Silence.

A long wave of silence settled in the living room of the Arias residence, when Mon El finally finished telling Mrs Arias everything. He hadn’t left out the slightest detail, while trying his best not to bring back the harsh memories. He had told her about the fight. About how most of what she saw on the holo broadcast of the Games was true. He then told her about how he had accidentally stabbed Sam, while the knife had directly hit the machine right below her heart that turned her appearance. After that point, everything that Mrs Arias had seen, had been a projection, one that Mon El had created, in order to try to save Sam and protect her identity.

Mrs Arias had listened to the entire explanation quietly. She had tried her best to appear stoic throughout it all, but had failed, as Mon El had noticed the cracks in her impassive mask, every time he had mentioned Sam. He admired her strength, her will to stay calm, even though he was, in a way, causing her to relive what was perhaps the worst moment of her life. 

“So,” Mrs Arias began suddenly. “Does that mean you’re…  _ like _ her?”

Mon El instantly understood what she meant. In response, he looked around him, ensuring that the living room windows were closed, before he closed his eyes shut for a second, concentrating on his powers. When he opened his eyes, he observed as Mrs Arias stared at him disbelievingly. His eyes were glowing, electricity running through his pupils, as he brought his right hand up in viewing level. Instantly, a ball of electricity sparked to life in his palm. A few seconds later, he closed his fingers into a fist and blinked a few times. Instantly, the electricity was gone, while his eyes returned to their normal state.

“I’m an alien.” Mon El finally said. “I’m not… human.”

A part of him warned him about uttering the words. It reminded him how dangerous it could be if anyone were to hear them. He couldn’t create AR domes here. He couldn’t project a lie. If a passerby were to hear, there was no going back from it. His origin would be revealed. However, a larger part of him made him realize that the woman in front of him deserved to know the truth. He had to tell her. He owed her as much, after everything.

Mrs Arias appeared deep in thought. She looked like she was struggling a little to cope with everything. Mon El understood, better than most, how overwhelming the situation was. He understood that after having gone through watching her daughter die, finding out that her true, alien identity had almost been revealed was definitely a lot to take in. She needed some time to herself. Time Mon El was more than willing to give her.

With that, he steadily got up from his chair. “I’m sorry to… spring this up on you,” he said in an apologetic tone. “I didn’t mean to reopen old wounds, I just… Sam wanted you to know what really happened. She… wanted you to know the truth.” He paused a little, before he finally said, “I should… I should go. Thank you… for listening.” He abruptly turned and made his way towards the main door, hurriedly. He had one hand on the handle when,

“Wait.” Mrs Arias’s strong voice sounded from behind him. It caused him to turn slowly and face the woman, as she slowly got up and walked over to where he was, standing in front of him. She looked at him for a moment, before she finally spoke.

“Sam was about ten, when she landed here,” she began, her voice a little shaky. “She’d tell me stories for hours, about her home planet, about her people. From the moment I’ve known her, all she had ever wanted,... was to feel closer to them,... to honour the memories she had of home, of her birth-family.” She paused a little, trying to regain her composure, before she continued. “You gave her that… You made her feel like the warrior she always was. All her life, she had wanted to prove herself a worthy Reignian. She had wanted to be herself. She had to pretend, when she was alive. Because of you,... she died as who she was.” She couldn’t help it, as a tear spilled from her eyes.

Mon El stood there, shocked. Although she hadn’t said it, Mon El understood what she was trying to say to him. He couldn’t think of a way to react, as he replayed the words that the woman in front of him had said to him. ‘Had she really thanked him?’ he thought. ‘How could she? How could she possibly be thankful?’ “I-” he tried to say something, but failed, for chaos ran through his mind, while guilt took over his entire being. “I’m-” he began to apologize, when,

“I know,” Mrs Arias interrupted him. It made him realize how the woman wished no longer to talk about the ordeal. How she was appealing for him to not say anything more that would remind her of what had happened to Sam. Mon El instantly obliged, as he fell quiet. The two of them remained in their spots for a long, silent moment, both trying to regain their composure. Another moment passed, when Mrs Arias finally spoke up. 

“Before you go,” she said, “I think there’s something she would want you to know.” With that, she headed towards a door at the far end of the living room, gesturing for Mon El to follow. She opened the door and headed inside. At first glance, Mon El could see nothing more than an ordinary-looking back room, one that could house spare parts and supplies. He looked around, with knitted brows, as Mrs Arias headed towards a switchboard behind the door. It contained two switches. One, Mon El learned, was for the lights, as Mrs Arias flicked it on. She then flipped the second switch.

Instantly, the plain room transformed into a much more cluttered one.

Mon El stared, with wide eyes, as stacks of books, maps and numerous sketches lay all around the room. He stepped inside, careful not to accidentally knock over piles of books stacked on the floor, as he took in everything. The room was utterly filled with drawings and pictures. Sketches of stars and galaxies and other heavenly bodies. The walls of the room were lined with what appeared to be star charts that had numerous handwritten markings on them. Mesmerized by everything, he slowly made his way towards a wall and studied the names on the chart. 

“She liked to remember everything about home,” Mrs Arias explained. “Whenever she would feel alone on this planet, she would look up at the stars and think of the billions of worlds that existed out there. I felt that documenting everything she knew about the universe would help her remember. It was a way to keep in touch with home.”

That was when Mon El understood. Everything here, everything stacked in this room was documentation. It was the result of an alien noting down everything she remembered about the universe that existed beyond Terra. Terrans had yet to find alien life. They still thought that being alone in the universe was indeed a possibility. Therefore every illustration here was made from scratch. Every star that Sam had charted down was by memory. By what she knew back when she had been on her home planet. Reading some of the names of the stars, Mon El realized that they actually seemed familiar. He felt a wave of nostalgia running through him, as it brought tears to his eyes.

“Are you from Polemos as well?”

Mon El turned, as he registered the question. He paused a little, before turning back to the star charts, looking for a particular name, before he finally found it.

“Here,” he said, pointing to a bright, red dot on the chart. “I’m from here.” Saying the name of his planet, hearing it from Kara was one thing. But reading the name of the star that his home world revolved around, brought a joy unlike he had ever experienced before. It was a feeling he couldn’t quite describe. “Daxam,” he whispered.

“Daxam?” Mrs Arias asked. He observed, as she headed towards a stack of books on the floor, shuffling through them before finally retrieving the book she had been looking for. She flipped through the book before landing on one particular page. “Here it is,” she said, showing it to Mon El. “I knew I’ve heard that name before.”

* * *

Lena turned, as she heard her name being called.

She had stepped out of the train for a bit, onto the main platform of the District 12 train station. As she turned, she instantly found the source of the voice.

“Kara?” Lena called out, a little startled to see her. “What’re you doing here?”

“Uh.. I live here,” Kara replied with a smile and a shrug. “How about you? I didn’t think I’d see the District 12 designer here so soon. I thought we would meet next for the Quarter Quell.”

Lena panicked a little. She knew very little about Seneca’s death as is. She could neither eliminate nor accuse anyone as a suspect yet. To add to it, she had learned, the hard way, that most people weren’t as willing to be helpful about information. In fact, people were going out of their way to keep things related to the ex head-gamemaker’s death a well buried secret. For that matter, she couldn’t let anyone know she was here, conducting her own investigation.

“Uh- are you okay?” Kara asked, noting the frown on Lena’s face. It pulled her out of her thoughts.

“Uh- yeah,” Lena began, trying to come up with a good enough reason for her presence here in 12. “No, I uh- they- they need me to design some stuff for your mentor dresses for the Quarter Quell. I needed some inspiration so, I- I decided to stop by for a couple of hours. I was just leaving when the uh- the train needed to stop for maintenance check-ups. So that’s- that’s why my departure is delayed by like an hour or so.”

Kara appeared only a little suspicious by her story, but ultimately smiled and said, “Well, if you’re just staying here, you can… wait at my house. I mean, it’s nearby and it’d be better than just staying here at the station for the whole time.”

Lena began to refuse, but Kara insisted. Ultimately, the victor from 12 had won, as the two of them made their way towards Kara’s mansion in the district’s Victor’s Village. About twenty minutes later, the two of them were seated in the front room, homemade cookies kept on a plate on the table.

“So, how’s the Capitol?” Kara began.

“It’s good,” Lena responded, a little distractedly. “I mean, it’s- like it always has been.”

“And how about you?” Kara asked. “Are you doing alright?”

The question made Lena seem a little taken aback. “I’m.. fine,” she replied.

To this, Kara paused a little, before she replied, “You know… You don’t have to say you’re fine if you’re not. It’s not customary to say ‘I’m fine,’ especially to your friends.”

Lena considered Kara’s words, but remained quiet.

“I mean,” Kara continued “Wouldn’t it be nice to just tell someone what’s going on with you, for a change, rather than just keeping it in. I understand if you don’t want to, I just- you can tell me, if you’d like.”

Lena took a moment to consider how she wanted to respond to this. It made sense to her, in the sense that it would actually be nice to tell someone about what she suspected about Seneca’s death. She had been investigating alone for quite some time, with the only other people whom she had come across had never been willing to help. Kara had no idea about any of it. When she thought about it, Kara was perhaps the one person whom she could actually eliminate as a suspect, for she had an air-tight alibi. She was unconscious, in her room in the Tribute Training Centre. She was a total stranger to the situation.

“You’re right,” Lena finally spoke up. “I mean, what I’m dealing with is- kinda been infested with dead-ends. It’s really difficult to tell who I can trust. When I think about it, you’re probably the only one I can trust right now.”

Kara knitted her brows, but remained quiet, prompting Lena to continue.

“What I’m about to tell you, does not leave this room, okay?” When Kara nodded, Lena took in a deep breath, as thought in preparation, before she finally began. “I don’t think Seneca died of natural causes. I think he was murdered.”

“Really?” Kara asked. “Why do you think that?”

“Well,” Lena began. “I don’t have all the pieces of the puzzle just yet, but… I think I have a rough idea.” She paused, looking around her, lowering her voice considerably, before she said.

“Have you ever heard of… aliens?”

* * *

Lena’s datapad had notified her that the train was ready to leave, about an hour after Kara had invited her home. The moment it had, Lena had quickly got up to leave. She had thanked Kara for her help, requesting her, reminding her to not let anyone know everything she had told her. When she finally bid her farewell, Kara stood by the front door, waving her goodbye. The moment she disappeared, turning down a street towards the train station, Kara’s smile immediately dropped. She replayed the conversation in her head, thinking back to each detail. She couldn’t think of anything but the revelation. She had to think of a way to get out of the situation. She needed to discuss things over with Mon El. This was big. When Kara had invited Lena over, to find out why she was scouring the forest area close to her pod, she had had no clue that she would find out something so explosive. A piece of information that could essentially out Kara, and Mon El with her.

She took in a deep breath as she closed the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot to consider in this chapter:  
> 1\. The outskirts of districts are generally more isolated. It's why all three aliens here were adopted by families living there!  
> 2\. "Someone who could give him strength!" Even Kara's memory gives him courage!!  
> 3\. Also, along the same lines: "Out here, she could be herself!" 😉  
> 4\. Kara is finally letting her loved ones in. She is finally talking about things. The poor thing has gone through a lot already. She's now finally accepting the fact that talking about it isn't going to make the pain a constant. Rather, it will help her get over it.   
> 5\. There's a major difference between surviving and living. Kara realizes now, that even if Rue would've been alive today, she would still be a part of a world where she could only survive, not live.  
> 6\. Comms datapad = Phone. I just wanted a futuristic name for it! 😅  
> 7\. I've been quite excited for all the astronomical revelation (literally!) at Sam's house. Growing up, Sam maintained star charts and wrote down all information that she knew about various planets and galaxies. It was her way of keeping in touch with her home, and it's going to affect our space puppies a lot too!  
> 8\. And finally, when Kara insists that Lena come to her house and tell her what was going on, as a means to find out why she was really there, reminded me of that one scene where Kara goes, "I can be sneaky when I want to!" 😄 Absolute Adorkable!
> 
> The final scenes in this chapter have been left a little vague on purpose. Reasons shall reveal themselves in the next chapter!
> 
> Thank You for Reading!  
> Until Next Time!


	15. Perceptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "“Wow,” she managed to say."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The more you know,... the less you don't know!😄

“We need to talk!”

Both Kara and Mon El said in unison, as they reached their usual meeting place, the meadow deep in the forest that lay between both their home districts. Both had a sense of urgency in their voices, while an imperativeness adorned their faces.

“I need to tell you something,-” Mon El began, hurriedly, only to be interrupted by Kara mid-sentence.

“I just found out something big,-” she said in a similar, urgent tone.

“It’s about what happened yesterday-”

“I couldn’t wait to tell you,-”

“After everything we’ve been through,-”

“There’s only one thing we can do,-”

“Talk to Sam’s mother-!” “Run for our lives-!” The two of them said at the exact same time. Instantly, both Kara and Mon El fell silent, as they tried to decipher what the other had been saying to them. A look of utter confusion adorned Kara’s face, while Mon El mirrored her facial expressions. They stood silent for a long, few seconds, staring at each other with knitted brows.

Mon El was the first to recover. “Wh- What’re you talking about?” he asked.

“What happened yesterday when I went to check on my pod,” Kara responded. “What are you talking about?” 

“My meeting with Sam’s mom,” he replied. Both of them paused for a while, contemplating what the other had just told them.

“Well,” Kara spoke up, this time, “Go ahead.”

To this, Mon El shook his head. “No,” he said. “You seem worried. Maybe you should go first.”

* * *

Kara fell completely silent.

She had, for a long moment, thought that she had somehow misheard Lena’s question. Surely, she was mistaken, wasn’t she? Lena couldn’t have possibly said what Kara thought she had. Either that, or this was just a very elaborate nightmare, wherein the Capitol had found out Kara’s true identity. “Aliens?” she said only a little hesitantly, managing well enough to hide the fear, the turmoil that reigned on in her mind. “You mean like,... living beings from outer space?”

Lena had seemingly taken note of how the look on Kara’s face had transformed into a hesitant one, but had mistaken the reason behind it to be skepticism, rather than apprehension. “I know what you’re thinking,” she began, explaining her question. “I know the term might sound a little… far-fetched, a little too outlandish to be true, but… just hear me out.”

In Kara’s version of things, in her nightmare, this was usually the moment when peacekeepers came bursting in through the doors and took her away from her home. She waited a long second, then another, but nothing of the sort happened. Her heightened senses picked up on no peacekeepers anywhere nearby. Lena wasn’t accusing her of being an alien. Kara was safe. Her secret wasn’t disclosed yet. It was safe. She was alive. Lena’s explanation, further made her realize that the woman wasn’t talking about her at all. With that in mind, the racing thoughts in Kara’s mind finally settled down, as she silently nodded, prompting Lena to continue on with her clarification.

“Years ago,” the designer for District 12 began, “a large, rock-like substance had struck the Earth, near the outskirts of the Capitol. At first, they thought it was just space debris, probably from an old Terran space station or satellites. But,... upon closer inspection, they found out that there was something very strange about the rock.”

Kara waited with bated breath, as she carefully listened to Lena, her mind growing more and more anxious as she found familiarity in the description of the crash that was being presented to her.

“The rock,” Lena continued, “as it turned out, was actually a ship. A pod, of sorts, that could, apparently, be used for interplanetary travel. When they got a closer look, they found something inside. Something… someone moving on their own accord. When the ship finally opened, they got a glimpse of this… being.” Lena didn’t fail to notice as Kara’s eyes widened just a little, but chalking it up to a natural reaction to what she was telling her, she continued. “That rock was human-kind’s first encounter… with alien life.”

Kara found it difficult to react earnestly to the statement. How was she supposed to react to something like this? She was supposed to be an ordinary human in this situation. One that was blissfully oblivious to the existence of alien life. She was supposed to be shocked, wasn’t she. But she couldn’t seem overly apprehensive either, for Lena might pick up on something wrong with the situation. Kara’s identity, her survival on Terra depended on how she reacted to what Lena had said. That was why, even though she had a good enough idea about who the ‘being’ in Lena’s story was, she acted, to her best of abilities, to be startled.

“Wow,” she managed to say.

“Yeah, I know,” With how Lena responded. Kara mentally sighed, realizing that her reaction had indeed been convincing enough. “It can be a lot to take in.” Lena said. “But it is what happened. And it was only the beginning.” Kara secretly braced herself mentally, while an unaware Lena continued. 

“This being was… foreign in every sense. Appearance-wise, it didn’t look anything like a human. It didn’t even match any of the predictive descriptions that humans had created, over the years. It was truly a strange, bizarre creature, abnormal in every sense.”

Kara fought the urge to roll her eyes. Over the years that she had spent on Terra, she had realized that it was rather typical of humans to label anything that wasn’t common to them as ‘abnormal’ or ‘bizarre’. For a race of living beings that had long back predicted that they weren’t alone in the universe, they still carried a certain sense of pride that could come only with the erroneous notion of being the only intelligent species to exist in the universe.

“Furthermore,” Lena continued, “communication-wise, they couldn’t make head or tail of what it was trying to say. It didn’t speak any of the Terran languages, not even those from ancient Terra. It kept on trying to communicate, while those that had found it, took it to be nothing other than gibberish. It led to quite a chaos. Ultimately, however, it was still a matter of planetary involvement. So, it was decided that the being be transferred to a secure facility within the labs of the Capitol and a project be set up to decipher the origins of this entity. To gain a better understanding of the situation and to handle the situation to our best of abilities.”

Kara knew what Lena was going to say, even before she said it.

“Project KAL,” the woman continued. “A strategic program with the sole objective to get as much information, as was possible, from the foreign entity that had landed on Earth and, try to understand the existence of life beyond our own planet. A team of scientists from the Capitol itself was appointed to study the being itself, the ship it arrived in, and its purpose on our homeworld."

Kara knew what came next. She was well aware of what this so-called project to get more information about the alien being entailed.

“Unfortunately,” Lena said in a perturbed manner, “the project had to be shut down. The alien, as it turned out, turned… hostile. It burnt down the facility that it was being held in. It caused a lot of panic with the authorities, until President Snow finally had to pull the plug on KAL.”

“What happened to the alien?” Kara enquired.

“Well, it was labelled antagonistic, even combative. So, in the interest of safety, it had to be… put down.”

Kara closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This was why the Kryptonian had always been so afraid of being discovered. This was what she used to have nightmares about as a child on Earth. Growing up, Kara had seen the constant fear, the constant worry that had almost always plagued their house. The longer she had lived here, the more she had realized how true her Earth-father’s words were.

_ ‘Humans fear that which they cannot control.’ _

This was the reason Kara had insisted on inviting Lena over to her house, to wait until the train maintenance was taken care of. When she had first seen Lena deep in the forest, she had, almost on instinct, felt fear filling up her mind. The very thought that someone from the Capitol was mere feet away from where her Kryptonian pod was buried, had pushed away all but one thought from Kara’s mind. She had to protect her secret. That was all that had mattered in that very moment. Her Earth-family, the people that had cared for her so much over the years, that had kept her safe and protected her throughout, were in danger, were the pod, that brought to them the alien that they took into their home, to be discovered.

That was why the ground scanner that Lena had brought with her on the trip had not worked. That was why the train had needed to stop in 12 for a ‘routine maintenance run’. Kara had ensured all of it. She had kept her secret safe. And now, she needed to understand just what had caused Lena to come looking for something in the forest outside of 12 in the first place.

“Wait, so,” Kara spoke up after a long moment of silence, “what does any of this have to do with Seneca Crane?” She realized that she couldn’t be afraid right now. She needed to find out just what was going on. She needed all the information she could get that could help her better protect her family.

“Well,” Lena began, a little hesitantly. “Something seems off with the official story. According to the reports, after declaring the victors for the Games, he headed back to his mansion near the outskirts of the Capitol. But, the thing is, he had no reason to. He was supposed to meet with President Snow, but for some reason, he never made it. He decided to head home first. After that, he just… They found him on a living-room chair in his mansion. I thought about it for weeks. Why did he head back home? Was it to keep something there, was it to- to get something from home? I mean, as head-gamemaker, he was often required to stay at the main Game centre itself, so he had almost everything he needed right there in his room. Then, what was so important that he needed to go home? It just doesn’t make any sense. Unless…”

Kara knitted her brows as she waited for Lena to continue.

“... It’s just awfully convenient that he was all alone when he got a heart attack. Had he remained back at the centre, he would’ve lived. I kept thinking about it until one day, it hit me. What if… what if he was drawn out there, to his mansion? What if he was there, not by his own choice, but because of someone else.

Something else.”

Lena paused for a long moment, as thought preparing herself for what she wanted to say next. “From what the Capitol authorities said, the ones that took him to his mansion and were supposed to take him to the President’s mansion afterwards, all throughout the ride, Seneca seemed really quiet. He was deep in thought about something and didn’t say a word right until they reached his house. Furthermore, when they reached there, he insisted that they stay in the vehicle and went on through the gates of the mansion alone. According to one of the guards, he seemed worried about something. He was lost,... almost as if he was in a trance…”

From the look on Kara’s face, Lena must have understood that she wasn’t picking up on what the woman was hinting at.

“When they performed numerous tests on the alien being in KAL, they found this particular trait that it displayed in critical conditions. Its brain could emit certain frequencies that allowed it to… control human minds. It could take over their thoughts and actions. It could make them do whatever it wanted them to.”

That was when Kara finally understood.

“What if, the day he died, Seneca was under the control of an alien?”

Kara remained quiet, seemingly startled at the notion that was presented to her. Lena took the silence as an opportunity to continue. “I know it seems unlikely, but think about it. He was acting strangely, he didn’t seem like himself. He was even worried about something. Some of the other gamemakers told me that when he reached the Gaming centre, he had been alright, excited about something. But when they saw him leave, he was sweating, he seemed nervous, jittery. What’s more, was that, according to his itinerary, he had made a sudden visit to District 2, no one knows why. On his way back to the Capitol, he found something, something important.”

“After KAL was shut down, there were zero reports of alien sightings. It just seems a little improbable that only one alien came to Earth, for some reason. What if there were more? What if on his way back to the Capitol, Seneca found something, something big, some crucial piece of information about these aliens. Maybe it made him dangerous. Maybe that’s why… they killed him.”

“Lena, I-” Kara struggled a little to speak up. “I understand that maybe… maybe he didn’t die of natural causes. But, what makes you think that an alien’s involved in all this? I mean, doesn’t it seem a little… bizarre?”

To this, Lena hesitated a little before she could respond. She seemed lost in thought, almost as though she were in double minds regarding the answer to Kara’s question. “I just…” she hesitated, “I just… know certain things that lead me to believe this explanation.” Looking at Kara, she continued, “I don’t know if I can explain it, but… let’s just say, I’m well aware of what aliens are capable of.”

“What do you mean?” Kara instantly enquired. She realized that there was something strange with Lena’s statement. It seemed cryptic at best, like there was something big hidden behind it.

Unfortunately, the designer didn’t explain any further. “Just take my word for it.”

Just as Kara was to prod further, a notification lit up on Lena’s datapad, informing her that the train was ready for departure.

* * *

As Mon El accepted the book that Mrs Arias handed him, he eagerly took note of the pages. His eyes fixated on the word on the top of the page. ‘Daxam.’ As his eyes travelled along the page, he instantly froze, as he came upon a drawing. It was a sketch that resembled a rustic, red sphere, with a few craters along the surface. Mon El was frozen in place. He had never expected to feel the way he did, for he had never expected to see his planet, his home world again.

As he continued to read, he took note of the many details of Daxam that were listed there. Sam had noted down every memory of hers. She had documented everything that she had known about the red planet of the Rao system. Right from a rough description of the terrain, to the views of the skies unique only to Daxam, Sam had remembered a lot. As Mon El turned the page, he came across peculiar symbols that he had never before seen on Earth. 

“Interlac?" He exclaimed. 

“Yeah," Mrs Arias supplied. “It was one of the many things she taught me."

Interlac was the common language of the Vayoman faction of galaxies. Almost every habitable planet in the star neighbourhood of the Rao system that was characterized as a world of a third level intellect population or above, could communicate in Interlac, earning it the title of a universal language. Planets like Daxam, Krypton or even Polemos were eight level planets. As a result, they were taught the language in school.

“Samantha loved talking in Interlac," Mrs Arias said. “Growing up, it was the only language she felt comfortable with. I remember when I first began teaching her English," she sighed, reminiscing with memories of a long time ago, “She used to hate it. Words, sounds, pronunciations, they just didn't make sense. So, I came up with a plan. A deal that we could have. I would teach her English, and in return, she would teach me the language of the eighth level intellects. That way, we could both be miserable!"

Mon El smiled. He felt touched by the gesture. Few people understood just how difficult it was to lose their world. To bid farewell to the only home that the being had ever known. Because a world wasn't just made up of rocks and land. It consisted of people and cultures and lifestyles, all of it unique only to that world. Mon El could never describe how much he missed life back on Daxam. Even something as simple as the language of his people, his first language was enough to make him reminiscent of his world. Leaving it behind, meant waving goodbye to every aspect of the world. It meant saying goodbye to life as they knew it. 

“I had never…” Mon El said, managing a whisper, “I had never thought I’d read Interlac again,” he said, tearing up a little. He fell quiet, as he began reading, cherishing each word, each symbol that he came across. He was mesmerized by it all. Sam had written down all her knowledge about the planet. She had even included memories from her trip to Daxam, describing the scenery, the people, the atmosphere that existed there. As he turned the page, he came across another sketch of the planet. This one, however, wasn’t like the first one. Though still a picture of Daxam, it was different in nearly every sense. Rather than the usual red that the planet was known for, it appeared darkened, almost black. Rather than a uniform sphere, it looked jagged on the surface. It was as though the light had disappeared entirely from the planet. Life, as Mon El had seen on Daxam, had ceased, giving it a desolate, barren look. That was when Mon El realized what he was looking at. He stared at the drawing with wide eyes as he suddenly understood. 

It was a sketch of Daxam, after the solar storm.

Emotions clogged his mind, as he realized that he was indeed looking at what Daxam looked like after he had left, after he had been forced to leave the planet in a hurry. It reminded him of the final view of the planet that he had had when his pod had been launched into space. He remembered the panic in the atmosphere. The fear that had rushed through his bones when Var Eth had programmed the pod to launch. He brought to mind the farewell he had bid his guardian, the tears-stained view of his people on the ground below, when he had been well above in safety. More than anything, he remembered the fire. Large chunks of fire raining from the skies, claiming anything and everything unfortunate enough to remain on land. That was his final memory of his world. That was the final image of Daxam that he had witnessed. Here, however, was a picture of the planet after the calamity, after the widespread inferno. It made Mon El realize that Sam had indeed observed Daxam after its destruction. She had noted down what the planet was like after he had left. It was something that Mon El had always wondered, always been yearning to find out. He couldn’t, for the longest time, believe that it was here, written down in a book that now lay in his own hands. He hurried to read through the description that followed the picture. 

Daxam, it seemed, had suffered a fate similar to that of Krypton itself. Only, rather than the entire planet exploding, chunks of the world had been blown away, leaving behind a ravaged, jagged mass of land, a deadlier version of its former self. When Krypton had exploded, one of the larger chunks had struck Daxam’s moon, Eona, causing a storm. That was why fire had rained on the planet. The solar storm had continued on for a very long time, the inferno engulfing everything in its path, turning the planet and everything on it into a barren land. By the end of it all, Daxam had transformed into a wasteland.

Mon El couldn’t decide how to react to everything he was reading. He didn’t know how he was supposed to react. He numbly stared at the picture of the reminders of Daxam, as he realized how his home planet was still there, only devoid of life. He could hear the screams again. The pleas of his people, the ones that never made it out of the storm. Over the years, the shock had sunk in somewhat. But today, he had finally found out the fate of the people that he had left behind. He had learned both cause and effect of the storm that he had last seen on his world. 

“Are you okay?” Mrs Arias enquired, observing Mon El’s somber expressions.

“Yeah, I’m…” he whispered, “I just never thought I’d find out… what happened to my people after I…” he gave out a shaky breath. “... And now I know,” he said, as he faced Mrs Arias with a sad smile.

The woman had sympathy in her eyes. “I can’t imagine,” she began in a soft voice, “what it must’ve been like, to lose your world. To see something like this happen to your home.” She took in a deep breath before she continued, “But I do know what it feels like to be hurt. I look at you, and in many ways, you remind me of her. The pain in your eyes, the burden of being the sole survivor of your world. I see it, I recognize it.” She paused a little, before continuing. “So, I’ll just tell you, what I used to tell her,” she continued. “It wasn’t your fault. No matter how much you feel like it was, it wasn’t.”

Mon El looked away. “I should’ve done something,” he said, lost in his memories. “I should’ve saved them.”

“Being the alien that you are,” Mrs Arias replied, “with the incredible abilities that you have, I know you’re not used to hearing this, but there was nothing you could’ve done. Torturing yourself doesn’t change that. What happened back then, wasn’t under your control. What you do now, is.”

Mon El looked up at her.

“You’ve already witnessed your planet’s end,” Mrs Arias continued. “Remembering it like that wouldn’t do you any good. Instead, remember it for what it was, when you were there,” she said, as she turned the page back, bringing into view the picture of the livelier form of Daxam. Gesturing to it, she said, “This is how your world would’ve wanted you to remember it. So, even though it’s gone now, it can live on in your memories forever.”

Mon El looked at the drawing and remembered his people. He realized how, of all the things that he remembered about home, the end had been his most prominent memory. But, maybe he didn’t need to remember it that way anymore. Maybe the best way to truly honour his race, was to remember the good times; the happy memories. That was how they could live on. That was what made them immortal.

“Thank you,” he said, turning to Mrs Arias, genuineness reflecting in his voice. He saw warmth in her eyes. A comfort that he had often seen in his own Earth-mother’s eyes. It made him feel relaxed. He realized, it was perhaps a skill all parents to aliens on this planet shared. But other than that, he saw something more. Forgiveness, he realized. Mon El couldn’t quite describe just how grateful he was for it.

After that, hours had flown by, as Mon El had sat down on the floor of the ‘map room’ and read the many books, about familiar stars and galaxies, that were kept there. He recognized some, while learning about others. He was near the end of a book, when he came across something peculiar.

“Palaios?” he said to himself, as he read the name above a greenish-greyish planet. It brought to mind a distant memory.

“You know it?" Mrs Arias enquired. 

“Yeah," he said a little distractedly. “Yeah I uh… I had heard about it when I was a kid." From what he knew about it, Palaios was the seventh planet in the Erb start system. On Daxam, Erb was categorized as an ancient star, meaning that it had gone supernova over eight eons ago. That meant that the planets that revolved around the star were destroyed billions of years ago. Another characteristic of ancient planets was that there was very little known about them. Every detail was found with the help of indirect proofs and evidence of unfamiliar and unusual elements. No one had ever seen what Palaios had looked like.

Yet, a diagram of the planet’s atmosphere drawn on the page told him something else entirely.

‘How could Sam have known about it?’ he thought to himself. The question led to a series of other queries regarding all the detailed documentation that he had come across till now. He looked around at every star, every galaxy that had been charted down. Sam was twelve when she landed here. Even if she had known about numerous worlds, even if she may have remembered them all, how did she come across so many of them? How was she able to document galaxies that were megaparsecs away?

The question bothered him all night. As he lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, his mind ran through numerous thoughts. ‘Maybe she read about them,’ his mind reasoned. Mon El shook his head. ‘that couldn't explain how she knew so many details about so many different worlds. Some of them weren’t even in the databases. They were rumours. For instance, the only reason he knew about Worlorn was because a Durlan emissary told him about it once. The planets in consideration were situated in possibly the farthest corners of the universe, a long, long way from Polemos.’

‘Then, how could a twelve-year old Reignian know about them?’ he asked himself.

Mon El took in a deep breath, as he tried to recall everything that Mrs Arias had told him about Sam’s documentation process. ‘According to Sam’s mom,’ he thought, ‘she used to go to the forest to fill the books out. She said it made her feel relaxed and free… What if,...’ a part of him proposed, ‘Sam had help? What if she knew people that had all this knowledge, stuff she didn’t know. The information must’ve come from somewhere, right?’

‘That makes no sense,’ another part of him countered. “No one here would know about these worlds. The only people who would know about it would be…’ he stopped, abruptly, as realization dawned on her. Mon El sat up in bed as he knitted his brows. ‘Could it be?’ he found himself thinking, hoping about an improbable notion. ‘But everything pointed in that direction, didn’t it?’ he realized. As he looked outside the window, he saw the numerous trees of the forest swaying gently with the breeze. He instantly felt elated, almost restless. He couldn’t wait to meet Kara, to tell her what he had discovered. This was big, the revelation, if it were true, could change both their lives forever.

Because, he had realized that they may not be the only aliens on Terra.

* * *

“Woah.”

That was all either of them could say, when they were both done with their accounts of the day before.Both Kara and Mon El remained silent for the longest time, unable to string words together to respond to what the other had told them. They were sitting together, their backs to the trunk of a large tree, while the majestic waterfall lay right in front of them.

“So,” Kara was the first to recover. “Looks like we both had quite an eventful day yesterday.”

Mon El nodded, his eyes still on the falls, his mind fixating on the events from the day before. “Yeah.”

They both remained quiet for a few more minutes before Kara suddenly spoke up. “Why is it always like this on this planet?!” she exclaimed. It caused Mon El to look at her with knitted brows, prompting her to continue. “I mean, on one hand we have people who are afraid of beings from other worlds for no reason, and on the other, we have our Earth-parents, or even Mrs Arias, who know exactly how to make us feel… welcome here.”

Mon El understood the point she was trying to make. While true, that Terrans were generally afraid of that which they could not control, there also existed people here who had the ability to be empathetic towards alien beings. They were even willing to risk their own lives for the safety of these beings from other worlds. While some ventured out to make the lives of people on their own planet miserable, there were those who did everything in their power to ensure that innocent aliens like himself could survive the harshness of this planet. “Humans are… complicated,” he said.

“Yeah,” Kara agreed, faintly, “No kidding.”

Mon El looked at her with concern. He noticed how Kara genuinely seemed anxious. The eyes that usually sparkled like comets under the light of the yellow sun, looked troubled now, burdened with worry. “Hey,” he called out, pulling her out of her apprehensive thoughts. “She’s not gonna find out. She’s been to the forest already and she didn’t find anything there. I really don’t think she’s gonna go back there. Don’t worry, she won’t find your pod.”

“Yeah, but what if she does?” Kara countered, instantly. “You weren’t there, Mon El, you didn’t see the way she spoke about aliens. I could see the… anger, the bitterness in her eyes when she was talking about the alien in KAL. Maybe, she’s right about Crane’s death, maybe something strange was involved. And she’s gonna keep looking until she finds out. In the process if she learns who I really am, she-...” Kara let out a shaky breath.

Mon El instantly held her hand and tried to calm her down. “Hey, look at me,” he said, facing her with a reassuring look. “You don’t have to be afraid, okay?” he said in a comforting voice. “Lena wouldn’t have told you all this if she wasn’t sure. She doesn’t know, nor will she. And as for what happened to Crane, there’s something she’s not telling. Maybe it has to do with something about her. If we can find that out, maybe we can understand why she’s so bitter about aliens. Whatever happens, we’ll get through this.” he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

Kara held onto his hand firmly, as she nodded. She exhaled deeply, as she said, “We’re really not alone, are we?”

Mon El paused for a moment, as though considering her words, before he replied, “Probably not.” As Kara faced him, he continued, “Think about it, Kara, we have the rest of our lives to live on this planet. Now, we can either spend all that time afraid of people like the Capitol,... or we could look for others like us, and give them hope, just like our Earth-parents gave us. We’ve lived all our life on Terra in fear. Maybe, if we find more like us, aliens marooned on this planet,... maybe we won’t be afraid anymore…”

They both remained quiet, as they considered the notion. They were possibly no longer the only aliens on Terra. There were others like them out there, somewhere. They too came to this planet from the skies above. They too, were probably living in hiding, in constant fear of being caught. They were aliens, just like them.

“I’d like that,” Kara replied, her worried look finally giving way to a hopeful smile.

* * *

Plutarch Heavensbee smiled at the crimson red envelope in his hand. 

He was standing in front of an array of drawers in what was perhaps the most secure room in all of Panem. He removed a small key from his pocket and inserted it into the keyhole of the third drawer from the top. As soon as the key clicked, he pulled the handle, as the drawer soundlessly slid out. He looked inside at the contents. A red envelope, identical to the one in Heavensbee’s hands was placed neatly in the box. He took it out and placed it on a tray besides him. He then took the envelope in his own hand and placed it neatly inside the box, the Capitol seal facing up. Satisfied with his work, he closed the drawer shut and removed the key, putting it back in his pocket.

He suddenly thought he saw a flash of red on the reflection of the metallic walls in front of him, causing him to hurriedly look back. But finding no one and nothing to worry about, he returned to the task at hand.

He moved to the tray where the old envelope was kept. He picked it up with one hand and removed a lighter from his pocket with the other. Holding the envelope above a trash can on the floor, he lit it from below. He watched, as the flames caught up to the entire length of the envelope, crumpling the paper, turning it into ash. He dropped the still burning envelope in the trash can and stared at it for a second, before finally leaving the room.

Throughout it all, he was in no way aware of the man hiding behind the walls, who had been quietly observing everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stuff's really taking an 'alien' turn, isn't it?! I just have a couple of points to consider for this chapter:  
> 1\. I love writing parallels. So, on one hand, we have people like the Capitol, who want to control everything, and so, label any non-complying alien hostile. On the other, we have people that are willing to take in aliens into their homes and help them survive. It's just two 'perspectives' on alien life. (Hence the title. Roll credits!)  
> (And then there's Lena who just seems bitter about aliens because of... some reason...!)  
> 2\. I loved all the Astronomy jargon!! I love thinking about and naming stars, planets galaxies and almost everything else to do with Astronomy itself!  
> 3\. A reminder that Mon El proposed that he and Kara spend the rest of their lives on Terra together, finding other aliens and she agreed!
> 
> Thank You for Reading!  
> Until Next Time!


	16. A new Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I had accepted, early on, that I was never gonna have a… a regular life here on Earth."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone remembers...!

Things had calmed down in the twelve districts of Panem.

For the past two months, all Capitol-related activities that took place in the Districts had reached a low. The Capitol, on the other hand, was busy beyond compare. Wealthy citizens no longer had time to spare to visit the meager districts, for they had much better things to do now. For once, the Capitol was all but stampeded with work. Preparations for the upcoming event took up most of the time of the citizens. It was why the Capitol authority over the Districts had calmed down a little. Even the Guard in 2 had eased up. Holos all over Panem were now mostly turned off, for Capitol TV was no longer operational in the past two months. Victors of the previous Games had moved away from the spotlight. They no longer mattered as much. People of the Capitol, the dedicated audience if the entire charade had moved on. There was something else to look forward to, no. The camera crew, set-designers were all busy readying everything for the next big event.

The Third Quarter Quell.

Although the 75th Annual Hunger Games were still three months away, the stir that they caused among either the genuinely interested audience or the forced-to-participate citizens of the Districts, had already begun. People everywhere were affected by it all in different ways. Families in the Capitol rejoiced in enthusiasm, looking forward to the grandeur that were the Games, while those in the Districts cowered at home, afraid of having to face the possibility of bidding farewell to a loved one. What was more, was that this year was a Quarter Quell: a crueler, more gruesome version of the Games that added a ‘twist' to the usual ones. Every twenty-five years, a special edition of the Games, known as the Quarter Quell was held, as an ode to the defeat of the Districts in the first rebellion, otherwise known as the ‘Dark Days.' The ‘twist' for each Game is announced approximately three months before the actual Games. In the first Quarter Quell, rather than a random lottery reaping, Districts were asked to elect their tributes. In the 50th year of the Games, four tributes, instead of two, had been reaped from each district, making the total number of tributes entering the arena, forty-eight. Harrison Wells, Mon El's mentor, had won that year.

Owing to this, a dreaded atmosphere had taken over the Districts. The lives that were already laden with fear, were now even more so. What could the Capitol possibly have in mind this year? At this point, it would have been easier to simply execute twenty three tributes at once and crown the remaining one a victor. As horrible as the notion was, people still considered it better than what they had to endure now. The Districts were in mourning.

Kara was thus extremely grateful for the forest. 

For the two aliens living close to the vast forest that lay beyond the boundaries of 2 and 12, coming to the woodland had developed as an instinct. Growing up in their respective districts, both Kara and Mon El hadn’t had many places, outside of the walls of their own homes, that could make them feel relaxed, safe. The forest was their sole source of comfort, for it had been there for them, providing them with the space and time that they so needed to survive on planet Earth. It was a refuge, an escape from their bleak realities and into the realms of alluring memories. They were aliens, beings from faraway worlds. Here, they never needed to pretend to be anything else. Here, they could be free.

As she felt the rush of the cool wind by her face, it caused all her fears and worries to simply melt away. They weren't gone, her troubles were still very much there. But in this moment, when she was flying along the cool forest air, they simply didn't matter. For the time being, she wasn't afraid. For the time being, she was free.

Flying was thus the second thing she was extremely grateful for. 

Unfortunately, her best friend didn't share her view.

Kara and Eve landed with a thud. While the Kryptonian seemed unfazed by the super-speed flying from District 12 to some of the deeper parts of the forest, Eve seemed anything but. She had been holding on tightly to Kara’s arm right from the moment Kara had taken off from the ground and hadn’t let go even now, when their feet were finally, securely on land. 

“Uh… Eve?” Kara called out. “We’re here.” She turned a little, to see how her best friend had her eyes closed shut, while a distressed look adorned her face.

Eve sighed deeply, as she pried open one eye and looked around her. Once sure that they were indeed safely on the ground, she slowly relaxed and let go of Kara. “I will never get used to that!” she exclaimed, referring to the Kryptonians ability to speed through the skies. Noticing how Kara was beaming at her state, she instantly responded. “And you could’ve at least tried to avoid the bugs, you know?!”

Kara held in a giggle, as she replied with, “How am I supposed to avoid them? They’re bugs!”

“Hey!”

Before an argument, as per usual, regarding Kara’s flying technique could break out between the two, a voice from behind caught their attention, as they turned around and looked at the source.

“Hey yourself!” Kara greeted Mon El with a smile, which he instantly reciprocated.

As he turned to Eve, he asked, “I take it the flying was… not great?”

“Nope!” Eve instantly replied. “I honestly expected that someone with her flying experience could navigate through the skies more efficiently!”

Mon El smirked, while Kara raised her hands and huffed in faux annoyance.

For the past two months, Mon El and Kara had been meeting in the forest regularly. Whenever they were free, Eve and Winn would join them too. Owing to just how vast the forest actually was, and how it would take a human days to reach their usual meeting spot near the waterfall, both aliens had been flying their friends here. Needless to say, the journeys had been… not as pleasant.

“Well, you know how some super-powered beings are,” Mon El responded. “I mean they can punch things and all, but they can’t really be expected to understand the finer art of flight!”

“Oh, like you did any better?” Kara instantly rebutted. “Where’s Winn.”

To this, Mon El smugly replied, “You’ll be pleased to know that my passenger, unlike yours, was completely unfazed by the journey and had to encounter not one bug”

Just then, Winn stumbled towards the group from behind. He was taking in deep breaths while leaning by a tree trunk for support, his knees trembling a little. One look at the poor man, and Kara could tell the miserable condition he was in.

She turned to look at Mon El, her brows raised.

“What?” Mon El asked, a little sheepishly. “Motion sickness is… not my fault per se…!”

Kara shook her head and smiled, while Mon El faced her with a silly smile of his own. They held each other’s gaze for just a second longer, before Mon El turned to check on Winn. “You okay, buddy?” he asked, patting lightly on his shoulder.

Winn took in another deep breath before he answered. “Yeah… No, I’m just… I’m not… here, yet. Just give me a minute, I… need to… make the world stop spinning!”

“The world always spins, you know?” Eve remarked from behind, earning a side glance from Winn. 

“Was that your attempt at a joke?!” Winn exclaimed. “It wasn’t a very good one. None of us are laughing.”

“I don’t need to crack a joke to make us all laugh,” Eve quipped, instantly. “All we need to do is look at you!” This earned her another side-eye from Winn, as he took another few seconds, before he finally stood up straight, his breathing returning to normal somewhat. “Seriously,” Eve continued. “You tech-geeks are so weak, so dependent on your precious little gadgets that you end up having no common sense at all! Isn’t it obvious? You close your eyes and breathe calmly to avoid motion sickness. Everyone knows that.”

“Says the woman with bugs stuck in her teeth,” Winn retorted. “At least I knew to keep my mouth tightly shut on my way over here.” He faced Eve with a triumphant look, the wretched feeling from before, seemingly gone. “Don’t they teach you that in your  _ enlightening _ life sciences or are you too busy ogling insects and studying their anatomy to actually realize when you gotta avoid them?!” he said with a sarcastic smile.

“I’m surprised you knew what anatomy even means,” Eve replied. “In fact, I’m not sure you’ve actually seen an insect even! The forest must be like a whole new universe to you guys, right? Tell me, what is it like to step outside your computer labs and look at an actual tree instead of those virtual holograms you’ve got there?”

“C’mon guys,..” Mon El tried to intervene, but to no avail. 

“We know plenty about the great outdoors!” Winn exclaimed, him and Eve seemingly having completely ignored Mon El. “And if it wasn’t for our ‘stupid’ technology, your research labs would’ve been completely out of commission. Remind me again, how is it that your advanced research centre even functions properly? Technology has achieved the new era of science.”

“Oh please,” Eve exclaimed, “old Terran scientists didn’t have half the tech-rubbish that we have and they did just fine. All technology has been able to achieve is making people lazier and stupider.”

“Oh and I suppose life-sciences people are just extra-ordinary?” Winn asked in a sarcastic tone.

“Guys we don’t have to-” Kara tried reasoning it out with the two but failed, for neither of the two noticed.

“Absolutely!” Eve exclaimed, nodding her head intensely. “We are way better off. Unlike you guys, we live in reality. We don’t mimic nature, we study nature.”

“Of course,” Winn smiled, sarcastically, “giving the same old excuse, every single time. Just because our systems mimic nature, doesn’t mean we’re a bunch of copycats. No system is perfect, there are flaws in everything. But at least with technology, we have a hope to go towards perfection. We take a simple, trivial, natural system, and we try to make it better.”

“Okay then,” Eve said, a determination to prove the man in front of her wrong reflecting in her eyes, “we’ll make a bet. I’ll prove to you that there are natural arrangements in our very ecosystem that are, in every sense, perfect, totally flawless. And that no piece of technology can make it any better. Loser has to give in writing that the winner’s field of science is the superior one.” She extended her hand towards him and waited.

Winn considered this for a moment, before he walked forward and accepted her hand, giving it a firm shake. “You are so on,” he said, with equal determination. The cold smile that both of them gave one another nearly sent chills down their best friends’ spines.

Turning to Kara and Mon El, Eve asked “You guys wanna witness my legendary victory?”

Both aliens raised their brows in response. “Oh,” Kara began. “That’s um- that’s an… amazing offer,” she spluttered. Besides her, Mon El hummed in agreement. “But, we uh- we can’t” Mon El shook his head no with added enthusiasm, even mouthing the word ‘no.’ “We uh- we have to-” Kara looked over towards Mon El to come up with an excuse.

“We were,” Mon El took over, “planning on- flying practice.”

“Yes!” Kara agreed, a little too emphatically. “Yes, flying, it’s something we haven’t practiced in a while now.”

“Yeah and, we figured it’s always nice to go flying in the fresh atmosphere of the forest,” Mon El continued. “You know, fresh oxygen everywhere. Gotta get that O3”

“O2” Kara whispered.

“O2,” Mon El instantly corrected himself. “And if you two wanna speed things up, you can just join us.”

“No!” Both Eve and Winn nearly yelled in response. “I think we’re just gonna go on foot,” Winn supplied, while Eve nodded in agreement. Kara looked at Mon El, who shot her a knowing look. This was perhaps, the first time they were seeing their best friends actually agreeing on something.

“Well, if that’s what you want,” Kara shrugged her shoulders. “We’ll just meet here by sundown.”

With that, the group separated, with Eve and Winn heading towards some direction in the deeper parts of the forest, leaving Kara and Mon El behind. As soon as the two were out of earshot, Kara relaxed her shoulders and smiled. Besides her, Mon El mirrored her actions.

“I thought we were the ones that came from warring worlds!” Mon El exclaimed.

Kara smirked in response.

* * *

Kara frowned in concentration, focussing on her work.

Both Kara and Mon El had been sitting quietly a few feet across from one another, engrossed in their work. They both had two, similar, leather-bound notebooks in front of them while they were busy filling the pages. Mon El was scribbling something down while Kara was equipped with a pencil and was sketching something on the formerly blank page of the book. Once she was done, she lifted her pencil up and viewed her work. Satisfied with it, she finally turned to the alien in front of her and held the notebook up to show him.

“Done,” she called out, causing Mon El to lift his head.

“Wow,” he remarked. “You really nailed Thanagarians’ disapproving non-smile,” he commented, earning a grin from Kara.

The scene that Kara had painted in the notebook was the view of a common day on the planet Thanagar. She had accurately captured the many features of the planet that set it apart from others, such as its sloping terrain, its cloudless skies and one of its many crowded streets. The people of this planet were known for their laconic behaviour. They preferred to speak only when spoken to, and frowned upon hearing even the slightest of idle chatter.

It brought a smile to Kara's face, as she remembered moments from her visit to this little planet. She had been remembering quite a lot for the past two months, ever since they had been filling up one notebook after another with information about the many worlds that existed out there in the universe.

‘And to think, it all began with a simple notion.'

_ ‘There were more aliens on Terra.' _

When Kara and Mon El had first decided to look for other alien beings that were on this planet, they had started with the only other place that they knew had housed an alien almost as long as their own homes: Sam's house. Mrs Arias had been more than welcoming to Kara, when the girl had sneaked over to 2 in order to meet her. Once sure that Kara too was in fact not human, she had shared with her the map room that her daughter had created. Kara, just like Mon El, had stared at the numerous star charts and books and diagrams with wide eyes, unable to blink, trying to take it all in and not get lost in nostalgia. 

Later that day, Mon El had come across a notebook that was incomplete, while Kara had stumbled upon a stack of books that were all empty. When Mrs Arias had explained that those were the books that Sam had been working on before she volunteered, the two of them instantly came up with an idea. To fill those books with their own knowledge about the universe. To document everything about the many planets that they knew existed, but hadn't come across in Sam's writings. To finish what she started. With permission from Mrs Arias, they had taken a notebook or two at a time to the forest, and begun documenting.

And they had been documenting ever since. 

“Are you done with the description?" Kara asked, looking at the notebook Mon El had been scribbling in for the past half-hour.

“Yup," he replied. “I just wanted to ensure I have everything. Uh- let's see," he began listing, “we have star system, galaxy, orbital data, and other information over here," he said pointing to one side of the page. “And then there's culture and features over here. Now, Thanagar was known for its Nth metal reserve, right?"

“Yeah," Kara supplied. “Lakes of the rarest, most powerful metal in the entire galaxy."

Part of the reason that a race as antisocial as this one existed was their self-sufficient planetary system. Thanagar was home to the largest known reserve of the most powerful substance in their galaxy. Nth metal was known for its extraordinary features. Mere drops of the substance could, in effect power an entire planet. And Thanagar contained huge lakes of the material. That was why they never paid much attention to interplanetary relations. The planet was considered a recluse.

“Am I forgetting anything else?" Mon El asked, reading and re-reading what he had written. “Here," he handed the notebook to Kara for another inspection.

At first glance, right away, a "Wow," escaped her mouth. Turning to Mon El, she said, “You really have amazing penmanship." She continued down the page and read through each and every description that had been jotted down. By the end, she gave him a satisfied nod. Had Kara not known about this particular planet, she could learn all about it after reading this one page. She would have loved to share all this with her Earth family. Both Kara and Mon El had wanted to do so. But, upon insistence from Mrs Arias herself, they had kept their work to themselves. As she handed him the book, she continued, “So that’s another planet done. What’s next?”

They both paused for a moment before Mon El spoke up, “Oh how about one of those- planets from the Tvish galaxy? Those were supposed to be fun to visit, right?”

At the very mention of the name, Mon El noticed as Kara’s eyes lit up while an enthusiastic smile adorned her face. “Oh my goodness, yes!” she exclaimed. “We have to write about Fos!” she uttered, excitedly, quickly opening a fresh page in her own notebook and beginning to draw. Right as she was about to sketch, Mon El called out.

“Wait, I’ve never been there.”

The look Kara gave him was one of utter shock. “You’ve never been to Fos?” she asked, slowly, drawing out every syllable, as though the sheer probability of such an event was non-existent. When Mon El slowly shook his head no, his eyebrows raised, Kara instantly inhaled deeply and began. “Mon El you would’ve loved it there!" she exclaimed. “They had tall, purple trees, glass houses that shone in the cool light, crystal staircases that would rise us up, everything was so beautiful. It revolved around a green star, so the skies were dyed with these beautiful hues and wisps of indigo. And the people were so nice. They were so welcoming to tourists. Every night, they used to gather around this one tree that was supposed to be the oldest one on the entire planet and sing these fascinating songs. It was the most charming planet, ever!”

Mon El simply watched, as Kara excitedly listed out numerous features of the planet, describing them with a great deal of affection. But he found he couldn’t quite pay attention to the entire thing. There was something else that had caught his attention.

Her face. Her smile.

Talking about Fos had brought into being a smile that Kara had seldom had the opportunity to sport. Rather than the worried look that often masked her face on Terra, this smile was a pleasant surprise. It took away all her fears, all her anxiety and gave way instead to a happy, carefree look that Mon El quickly realized was his absolute favourite. It was contagious, in that, he found himself beaming as well. He noticed how the bright sunlight only enhanced her look, for the smile that reached her eyes, coupled with the light of the yellow sun gave rise to a pair of perhaps the most beautiful eyes he had ever had the privilege of seeing. Her eyes were glittered with joy. The shade of blue resembled the bright skies, but brighter. Like…

‘Comets,’ he realized, the term instantly making him remember something.

“What?” Kara’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, making him realize that he was staring at her, perhaps longer than usual. “What is it?” she asked, taking note of the peculiar look on his face.

“Uh-” Mon El replied, “It’s- it’s fine, it’s nothing.” he hesitated a little.

“C’mon, Mon El,” Kara insisted. “You lecture me about dealing with stuff together and now you won’t even tell me what’s on your mind? That’s not fair, Daxamite, and you know it!” she said, a little playfully. 

One look at her, and Mon El knew, instantly, that she wasn’t going to let this go unless he told her. He hesitated a little more, before finally deciding to let out what had been on his mind for quite some time now.

“I uh-” he began, a little falteringly. “I… had this dream, a couple weeks ago. It was uh- it was about when I got… punished at the square…”

The very mention of the dreaded memory caused Kara to tense up, as she remembered the whipping. Mon El found himself instantly regretting his words, for he already missed the smile that had disappeared from her face now. Instead, she faced him with a worried look.

Taking note of the anxiety, he quickly replied, “I’m fine, don’t worry,” putting to rest the flurry of questions she was about to unleash on him, regarding his well being. “It wasn’t about the punishment itself, it was about… some time after. In the dream I was in pain and alone and… I was holding onto someone’s hand. When I looked up,... I saw you.”

This memory, like the previous one, caused Kara to tense up. But rather than anxiety, a peculiar look adorned her face now. ‘It resembled curiosity,' Mon El realized (or hoped). 

Mon El looked over at her and continued, “You were leaning over me… and, you were… talking about the Capitol and Snow and I don’t remember much except that you must’ve been sad, because your eyes-, they were insanely blue. I mean… “ he stumbled a little, “I mean, they always are… but they were,” he looked directly into her eyes and uttered clearly now, 

“Like comets.”

Mon El paused a little. Kara stilled. Both knew what came next. Both knew exactly what Mon El was trying to describe.

“I had never seen anyone, so stunning,” he continued, his eyes fixating on hers, as he paused a little, before he finally spoke up. “And we kissed.”

He had said it. He had finally said it out loud. “A few weeks ago,” he continued, “I realized that it wasn’t a dream… it was a memory.”

They remained silent for a long moment after that. Neither knew what the other wanted to say. Neither could understand what they felt in their minds, for a peculiar feeling had taken over.

“Mon El, I-” Kara began, only to be interrupted by him.

“Kara, before you say anything, please just… hear me out… please?” Mon El pleaded with his eyes. When Kara responded with nothing more than silence, he took in a deep breath and began.

“When I landed on this planet, I uh- I knew it was gonna be… quite the experience living here. Everything was different,... nothing felt familiar. Nothing felt normal… My normal ended the moment Var Eth put me in that pod… So, I- I had accepted, early on, that I was never gonna have a… a regular life here on Earth. And I was- I was okay with that." He paused a little before he continued. “I had never felt like this about anyone… I… never thought I would feel like this… But then I met you," he said with a nervous, wavering smile. “And I- well I didn't even know that there were these many feelings to be had so-... I didn't wanna overcomplicate things and- I guess I had myself convinced that friendship between us was the right thing… But I think I've been lying to myself. Because, though I- I don't know what this is, but, um-... One thing, I know for sure, is that… that day, I was dying. And it was-" he scratched his jaw, a sign of nervousness, “It was okay that- I…" he hesitated a little, before he finally looked up at her, her eyes giving him the encouragement that he needed before he uttered,

“It was okay that I was gonna die, because I had gotten to kiss you."

Mon El observed, as Kara's eyes shone brightly in the sun. He took note of the sparkle that they emanated, of how they had the ability to convey the very rush of emotions that he himself felt coursing through his mind at the moment. 

“Comets," he remarked with a sad smile. 

He knew what they meant. He knew what he had to say now. He had suspected this outcome the very moment he had realized that Kara had never brought up the kiss herself. With a deep breath, he prepared himself for what came next. He had been struggling to understand the swirl of emotions that he felt for quite some time now. But now, after he had said it all out loud, he knew clearer than ever, exactly what he felt. A part of him broke just a little, when he realized that she didn't feel the same way.

“I didn't tell you this to change your mind," he began. “Okay? I- I get that you don't like me." 

“I do like you," Kara instantly replied.

“But not in the same way," Mon El concluded with a sad smile. “And that's-... that's okay," he waved off, “that's fine. (A voice in his head disagreed, but he didn't let it show.). I just… I didn't wanna hide things from you… Pretend they don't exist. I… had to let you know." Before he got lost in her eyes again, he snapped himself out of it and said, “You know what, uh-" he shook his head as a means to shake away his thoughts. “It's not- we don't need to- to dwell on this. I just wanted to let you know and I did. So now we can just- move on, you know? Pretend that this never happened," he exclaimed and laughed a little, in hopes to steer the topic away from all this. He hoped there was nothing more to be said on the matter. One look at Kara, however, and he realized she was about to speak up.

“Mon El, I-" was all she could say, however, for right that second, a rustle sounded from somewhere in the forest.

Mon El instantly tuned in on the sound, making use of his enhanced hearing. In front of him, he noticed Kara do the same. The duo remained quiet, trying to pin-point exactly where the sound had come from. There was no chatter to go with the rustle, which meant that it wasn't Eve or Winn approaching them. It was something else.

Someone else.

The rustle sounded again, this time from behind Kara. She quickly looked at Mon El, noticing how he too had realized what she had. ‘Twelve,' he mouthed, quietly, letting her know the direction. She nodded, silently. In the very next instant, he super-sped away in the perpendicular direction, while Kara turned and walked towards the sound. With silent steps, she headed closer, as the sound got just a little louder, before it stopped, abruptly.

‘The person knew,' she realized. They knew she was coming. 

In the very next instant, she heard hurried footsteps rushing away from her. They were trying to run away. Kara increased her speed a little, her own footsteps no longer silent. She finally reached within view of the person, the man who was hurrying away from her. Not even having to make use of her super-speed, she ran towards him. A few seconds later, she finally caught up. The man looked scared, as he turned to look at her while still trying to get away. She gave his shoulder a little push, causing him to stumble. It took a second more before he got up and was about to run again, when he was suddenly stopped by another man who was standing directly in front of him now.

The man was trapped now, with Kara on one side and Mon El on the other. Sighing in defeat, he slowly got up.

“Who are you?" Kara enquired sternly. “And why have you been following us?"

The man stood in place, quietly, catching his breath. He stood for another stretched moment, before he finally looked at Kara and to her utmost surprise, gave her a cryptic smile, mysterious in every way. It worried her.

“A storm is coming," he said in a deep, gruff voice. “We must stick together."

Kara knitted her brows in response. Before she could ask him what it meant, the man spoke up again.

“El Mayarah."

The words he had uttered caught her completely off guard. Not because she didn't understand, but rather because she knew exactly what they meant. Taken aback by it, she failed to notice, as something strange occurred in the very next moment. The man was still standing in front of her, smiling. But his legs were beginning to disappear.

All of a sudden, Mon El realized what was happening. “Wait!" he called out, rushing towards the man, but before he could reach him, he had already vanished into thin air. He had turned invisible right in front of them. Both Kara and Mon El looked around, trying to make out where he had gone, still taking in the fact that he had indeed vanished. A few seconds later, Kara spotted something shiny on the floor, near where the man had been standing.

“Mon El," she called out. As he turned, she bent to pick up the shiny metal object. It was flat, like a badge, with a peculiar insignia carved on it. Kara turned it around in her hand, and noticed how the so-called badge was missing a pin. This was something else.

“It's an electronic," Mon El supplied. “I can feel electricity coming off of it." As Kara handed it to him, he studied it carefully. He looked on both sides for a button or an activation key, but could see none. Suddenly, an idea struck him, as he took the object in hand and closed his palm around it, pressing it in the middle. It worked, as the object gave off a faint blue light in the middle and a second later, an audio message played.

_ "You know who we are" _ an electronically filtered voice sounded from the device.  _ “You know where to come. Join us, for together as one, we can defeat the real enemy. El Mayarah. Stronger together." _

The garbled voice stopped abruptly, while the faint light shut off. The very next instant, a faint beep sounded from the pin. It took both Mon El and Kara mere seconds to realize what was to happen, as the beeps grew in number and more frequent. Without wasting any more time, Mon El threw the pin on the ground and the two of them backed up. They watched, as the pin, the moment it hit the ground, exploded in tiny, soundless flames. The moment the fire died down, the two of them went to check. Just like they had thought, the pin was burnt to the ground, for nothing but metal scraps remained there now. The pin had been fitted with a self-destruct mechanism, which had destroyed it the moment it was done playing them the message. Both Kara and Mon El remained silent for a long moment after that.

“What the hell was that?" Mon El finally asked, breaking the silence.

“That symbol," Kara said. “I've seen it before, somewhere." She tried hard to remember when all of a sudden, it struck her mind. She looked at Mon El and uttered with wide eyes.

“District 13."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Points to Consider:  
> 1\. Eve vs Winn is essentially biology vs computer science! They're both warring worlds indeed!  
> 2\. The completing the books part was inspired by the books. In Catching Fire, Katniss and Peeta complete this book that Katniss's father used to maintain that basically documented numerous herbs and their properties. Here, it's worlds and galaxies!  
> 3\. Kara enthusiastic about Fos is this universe's version of Kara being excited for Funny Face!  
> 4\. Let's give it up for Mon El: the king of friend-zoning himself!😂  
> 5\. The mysterious man was finally caught (but for like half a minute!) I wonder what they'll find out next!
> 
> Thank You for Reading!  
> Until Next Time!
> 
> UPDATE NOTE:PLEASE READ  
> I have been on AO3 for a year!! (next month will complete a year for my account) and while that is super exciting, I have also realized that writing and updating chapters every week has become kinda taxing for me. I love writing and will always enjoy it, specially for this story, but I feel like in order to ensure that the quality doesn't drop, I need to extend the time interval between chapters a bit (at least for now). (I've just started re-reading Harry Potter and if I plan on going through the entire series, then I'll definitely need a lot more time to complete everything!)  
> So, for that matter, starting from August, I will be updating this story fortnightly rather than weekly. I assure you, though, updates will remain regular. Only, the cliffhangers and mysteries will need a longer time to reveal!  
> Thank You once again for Reading! I enjoy and appreciate all your comments and kudos!  
> Sincerely,  
> PencilPuppy!


	17. Too Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The connection between you two is obvious..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... nope.

It all began with a simple announcement.

_ “Happy Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favour. President Snow shall be addressing the citizens of Panem, tonight at 1900 hours. Citizens are requested to keep their holos ready for the broadcast. It is mandatory viewing. Working shifts are to be adjusted accordingly. This will be the only announcement.” _

The clicking off of a microphone had sounded as the holo had gone blank after that, reverting to its usual, inactive state. It was impossible to tell whether District holos were ever properly turned off, for there were no lights, no beeps, nothing to indicate it. For people of the Districts, these Capitol-provided holos had only two states: on and running. Because turning a holo off, especially during mandatory viewing, was against the law.

Not that citizens had a choice.

Kara was always fascinated by just how far the Capitol could go to impress their power upon the common citizens of Panem. It was all, as Kara had realized over the years, about the illusion of choice that the Capitol so generously offered to not only the people of the Districts, but also the, so-called privileged citizens of the Capitol themselves. In the matter of free will, the wealthy citizens of the Capitol were indeed no different than those hailing from the poverty-laden streets of the Districts. No wealth could guarantee the privilege of independence. As long as people failed to recognize this, as long as they continued to live in blissful ignorance, a mere mirage floated about by the leaders of the Capitol, calm and peace was guaranteed. This was why the situation of Panem was always made to look as though it was a thoughtful, plentiful one, wherein the people burdened with the responsibility of ruling the nation, of leading it, were generous enough to offer the people a freedom of living, of surviving. 

It reflected in nearly everything that the Capitol did, everything that the people of the Districts were forced to do. A house was provided to every citizen of the Districts, but with not nearly enough to sustain. Granaries were set up in every District, but devoid of grains of food. A holo was provided for by the Capitol in abundance in the Districts, but with no means of turning them off. They were there, only to ensure that no man, woman or child could, even by accident, miss out on the numerous, labelled extremely important, messages from the rulers of Panem. So that no one could forget exactly where they stood in the system. To remind a commoner of his place. The thought reflected in everything. 

Every year, people were forced to participate in an event as foul, as evil as the Hunger Games. They were told it was to pay for the crimes of the first rebellion. To repent on behalf of their predecessors, who had the audacity to think on their own, to dream of a world on their own. A better world. Such a heinous crime it was termed. Such dark days they were. The Capitol had drilled as much into the minds of every citizen for the past seventy-five years. 

The holo in Kara’s living room cackled to life once more, as the same announcement sounded yet again, pulling Kara out of her reverie. Every holo in the district would be doing so every fifteen minutes now, right until the President’s address. Kara closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. Hunger Games season had officially begun. Unlike other years, however, it had begun three months early this time, for this year was special. 

This year was a Quarter Quell.

Every twenty five years, the Hunger Games were included with a twist, making the Games crueler than usual. Kara had never lived through a Quarter Quell in all her life on Terra. She had yet to experience the misery that the people on this planet went through every time that the Capitol decided to make things more  _ interesting _ . With the sheer amount of time and resources that the Capitol had devoted to every aspect of the Games, right from convoluted arena designs to ridiculing analyses of the death of a tribute, Kara could only imagine what the Games had in store this year. What could they possibly do to make their already miserable lives on Earth even more so. With every second that she spent on this forsaken planet, the first rebellion only felt more and more justified.

When the recorded announcement played yet again for the fifth time, Kara had finally had enough. Irritated by the noise, she left the vast living room of her Victor’s mansion and made her way towards the relative peace and quiet of the kitchen.

Kara was the only one in the mansion, for both her parents had left quite early for their morning shifts at the District factories. They wouldn’t return till the evening, which essentially meant that Kara would be spending almost the entire day in the huge mansion listening to the Quarter Quell announcement that echoed from every room of the house that housed a holo. She had thought about inviting Eve over, but had quickly realized that she too, like every other citizen of 12, would be busy at the factory. As Kara slouched towards the kitchen, contemplating about her day, something caught her eye.

A lidded bowl lay on the kitchen counter. Kara walked towards it and noticed that a note was left right next to it. Taking the note in hand, she instantly recognized the loopy handwriting on it, as it read:

_ ‘There’s donuts in the fridge and sandwiches in the oven. Eat up! Love, Mom’ _

The words brought an involuntary smile upon Kara’s lips, as her face lit up. With the note still in hand, she lifted the lid over the bowl and peeked inside. A beautiful waffle cake lay inside. Rich layers of fluffy waffles, coated with syrups and chips and topped with tiny pieces of fruit, brought about a heavenly aroma. Kara’s mouth watered involuntarily, as she took in the sight of the exquisite snack, instantly recognizing it. Kara was reminded of her childhood here on Earth. She recalled how when she was a young girl, she would spend hours describing to her Earth-mother the many things about home that she missed. How, of all the things that she had been forced to bid farewell to, she missed the food of her home planet the most. Alura had listened to her hour long description of a dish that came from the beans of the Prasadhera, a plant native to Krypton. The very next day, Alura had handed Kara a bar of a food Kara had never had before. The very first bite had instantly brought about an intense memory of her home planet. The taste, the texture, the aroma, everything reminded her of the dish Kara had described to Alura so eagerly. It wasn’t exactly like the Prasadhera, but it was very, very close. Later on, Alura had taught her that the food dish, here on Earth, was referred to as chocolate.

Chocolate had been quite an important part of their household ever since. Although it was never readily available in the District, Kara had come across mixed groves in the forest that consisted of cocoa plants, the berries of which created chocolate on this planet. Kara absolutely loved it, and Alura had always ensured that her alien daughter could have all such things that could serve as a reminder of her home, that could pull her away from her reverie brought upon by memories of what she had lost. It had been Alura’s way of making her daughter feel as welcome on this planet as she possibly could. It had worked tremendously.

Hurrying to retrieve plates and cutlery, Kara excitedly rushed through the kitchen, opening and shutting drawers with near super-speed. Instinctively, getting a plate wasn’t something Kara deemed necessary. Left to her, a fork would be more than enough to quickly begin devouring the cake directly from the bowl. However, she had been told it was supposedly good manners. Hence, she spent five unnecessary seconds to carve a large slice of the rich chocolate waffle cake and place it carefully onto her own plate. Replacing the cover back on the bowl that now contained the remainder of the snack (not much left now), she eagerly plunged her fork into the spongy waffle-layers and scooped up a smaller portion, ensuring to include all layers, along with a piece of fresh strawberry in the morsel. Her fork was about an inch away from her mouth when

RING!

The shrill sound of the telephone ringing reached her ears, causing Kara to glare at the phone that lay in one corner of the kitchen with such intensity, that a little more would’ve caused her laser vision to burn the phone to a crisp. Sighing deeply, resignedly, she kept the plate on the counter gingerly and moved towards the still ringing sound of the telephone. Ensuring not to crush the receiver in hand, she carefully picked it up. But before she could say anything, the person on the other end of the line screamed.

_ “OH MY GOSH! Did you hear?”  _ the person yelled excitedly, causing Kara to yank the receiver away and nurse her poor, capable of super-hearing, ear.

“Who is this?” Kara demanded, but instantly realized how little sense the question made. The telephone was a privilege only residents of the Victor’s mansions got. There were exactly two occupied mansions in all of 12 and therefore only two telephones. And until the last time Kara had met Henry, his voice was neither as high-pitched nor as unnecessarily excited. That left only one other person who could be calling her.

_ “It’s Effie of course!” _ the presenter from the Capitol exclaimed.  _ “I just came across the announcement. Can you believe it’s almost been a year already?! It seems like just yesterday we were on your victory tour, and now this! I can’t believe how quickly it all went by. But this is just the beginning, I suppose. You’re a mentor now, aren’t you? And this is a Quarter Quell. We’ll need to double your appearances now! Oh dear, it’s going to be very hectic. I don’t know how we’re going to manage-” _

For the first time in all her life, both on Krypton, as well as Terra, Kara facepalmed. She scowled at the phone as Effie rambled on about the many preparations that the District 12 presenter had to make, months from now, for the Quarter Quell, and how she had already started charting up a schedule for Kara and that she would be in 12 next week to get an early start on everything.

“Is that really necessary?" Kara asked hurriedly, trying with all her might to not convey the panic in her mind through her voice. “I mean… the Games are still months away-"

But Effie was having none of it.  _ "It is never too early to begin." _ she said in a stern voice.  _ “Anyway, I've got to dash, sweety. I've got to get the prep team prepared! Heaven knows not one thing gets done around here until I take charge. You take care of yourself. Rest before the madness begins! I'll see you next week. Toodles!" _

With that, the line went static with a mere click and Kara, with the receiver still in hand, fought the urge to bang her head against the wall, repeatedly. She placed the receiver back a little too harshly, before she turned and looked at the kitchen. 

Mere minutes ago, she had been about to munch down on a delectable snack, blissfully unaware of the madness that was to follow a simple announcement. She had had no idea that the very same announcement, miles away in the Capitol, would wreak nothing short of a havoc of excitement. She should've known the past few months had been far too good, far too relaxing to last. The lull in activity was too good to last. Effie had been sitting idly for so long now. The effect could only mean trouble.

Kara huffed in frustration. She looked at the plate on the counter. She realized she had actually lost her appetite, which, for the alien was saying something. The distant click of the holo sounded from the other room, causing Kara to frustratedly march towards the room on the far side of the house and away from the living room. She headed straight for the Art room (not before snatching the bowl and a fork and taking them with her.)

* * *

The Art room was a vast space meant to house the many paintings that Kara had made as part of her victor hobby. Like the rest of the mansion, this room too was adorned with large windows and a high ceiling. Unlike the rest of the mansion, however, the walls here weren't elegantly plain. Instead, they were filled with realistic paintings of the great outdoors. Kara loved to paint. She had realized how relaxing it was to sketch out her dreams, her memories and bring to life picturesque scenes of Terra as well as other worlds, and would thus paint whenever she had a lot on her mind. The green in the room looked misplaced. For the views of the outdoors that lay beyond the District fence to be found inside a Capitol-decorated mansion felt wrong, which was exactly what made it right. It was Kara’s way of remaining hopeful. Hopeful and defiant.

A blank canvas always lay in the centre of the room, waiting for Kara. It was to ensure that on the particularly chaotic days, not unlike today, Kara didn’t need to set everything up before she began painting and could simply dive into it. A ceramic mug kept on a table next to the canvas contained brushes of different sizes while a box of different colours of paint was kept next to it. Kara carefully placed the bowl of cake on another table before she retrieved a mixing palette from below. Selecting a colour, a brush, she let her mind go free. She closed her eyes and faced the canvas. When she opened them, all she could see was the blank of the paper in front of her. A blank that she needed to fill.

Instinctively, Kara selected a colour, and began.

The very moment the brush came in contact with the canvas, she could feel her mind clearing up, enough to think about the many things that had been running through it. Effie’s call had only been the newest addition to the list. To be fair to the presenter, Kara had been thinking about the next Games herself for quite some time. She knew well enough that although she had survived the arena long enough to get out of it, that this was nowhere near the end of the Games for her. She was a mentor now. In ways more than one, it would be much more difficult to play this role that the Capitol had given her along with the title of a victor. A mentor couldn’t volunteer if their best friend’s name were called in the reaping. They couldn’t ask to go in the Games themselves to save innocent lives. They had to remain outside, keeping a watch on everything that went on inside the arena and hope to help tributes from their own district to somehow win. Simple enough, right?!

Kara had been thinking about it all for the past few months. Could she really do what people like Henry had been doing over the years? Could she really steer innocent tributes towards victory, towards survival? And only one was allowed to survive. Could she select one of two tributes from her own district to survive and leave the other to die? And what would happen if she failed to save even one? Could she carry around the burden of dead tributes, of mentoring tributes to their deaths? How helpless would she be throughout it all, watching deaths, not being able to do anything about them. The thing that had been troubling her above all else, was the day of the Reaping itself. That was when she would be the most helpless. What if they called on the very name that they had called the previous year. Kara had saved Eve the last time. Could she do it now?

Kara shook away the thoughts and forced herself to ignore the pit in her stomach when she even began to consider what it would be like to watch her best friend on the holo.

Taking a deep breath, continuing to paint, Kara forced herself to divert her thoughts. She thought back to when the chaos in her mind had begun. It was the previous day, when she had been in the forest. Kara and Mon El had both witnessed something quite strange yesterday. They had come across a man, a stranger who had been following them ever since they had returned from the arena. Kara remembered getting the strange feeling whenever she would go to the forest that she was being watched. Yesterday, she had come face-to-face with the culprit. But not for long, for the culprit had vanished right in front of their eyes, not before leaving behind something equally bizarre. 

The electronic pin that the stranger had dropped contained a message, something that neither Kara nor Mon El had been able to decipher. It felt as though the recording had been left vague on purpose. It was as though whoever had recorded it was trying his or her best to keep it a secret, were it to fall in the wrong hands, in the enemy’s hands, going by the message.

What only added to the mystery, was that in the end, the message had signed off with a term Kara had last heard back on Krypton.  _ ‘El Mayarah.’ _ It was Kryptonian for ‘Stronger Together.’ The message had known that. The man carrying the message had known as well. The symbol on the pin had been one that Kara had seen in history books. It had been the symbol of the thirteenth District of Panem. The destroyed one.

_ “I thought 13 was a wasteland,” _ Mon El had enquired.  _ “That it was destroyed by the Capitol in the first rebellion.” _

_ “Well, it was,” _ Kara had explained.  _ “But it’s not a wasteland. I mean, no one knows for sure. You know the live recording of 13 that they show every year at the beginning of the Reaping? Well, Eve and I have been studying it for years. And every year, it’s the exact same. Nothing changes. It’s the same ground, the same rocks, even the same bird flying in the same direction. It’s a clipping. They’re showing us pre-recorded footage of the District. The only reason for it must be-” _

_ “They don’t wanna show what’s really happening there.”  _ Mon El had finished the sentence. Looking towards the direction that the man had been running towards, he had continued, _ “Geographically, 13’s that way,”  _ he had said, pointing towards the deep forest area. _ “You really think there might be people there?” _

_ “I don’t know,”  _ Kara had shrugged. _ “But… I mean this guy came from somewhere, right? And... Sam always came to the forest to meet our hypothetical aliens…” _

_ “Wait, so…”  _ realization had suddenly struck him. _ “That’s where they could be living, the other aliens. That’s where they’re probably hiding.” _

The idea was definitely worth considering. If District 13 had always been off bounds for all of Panem, and the Capitol was letting whatever was happening there go unnoticed, then it made sense to think that 13 housed something incredibly important, something dangerous to the most powerful rulers of the world themselves. And what could be more dangerous than a handful, maybe a group of rogue aliens? While it was impossible to guess the powers that these aliens possessed, going by the stranger that they had caught in the forest, it was fairly certain that they could hide themselves well enough from the scrutinizing eyes of the Capitol. Surely they could hide. They had survived till now, hadn’t they.

The one thing that remained unclear in all of this was the reason that the Capitol wasn’t willing to take any action against 13 and just blast the place off like they had done during the first rebellion. If aliens really did live there, then it was clear enough that they were in hiding. But if that were true, then what else was there? What was so important that the Capitol was willing to risk their own reputation of not letting anyone stand against them? The questions had come up the day before.

But had remained unanswered.

By the end, both Kara and Mon El had arrived on the same conclusion. As much as they knew about the situation, there was something major that they didn’t. Whatever it was, it had to be related to District 13. What else could possibly explain a vanishing stranger who had been following the aliens of 2 and 12 for quite some time, a peculiar electronic device that played a mysterious message before destroying itself right in front of their eyes, and the rare symbol of a District that was known to all of Panem as a wasteland ever since the first rebellion. Owing to all this, Kara had decided to find out as much information as she could from the factories of 12 regarding the ill fated district while Mon El had vowed to do the same back in the factories and Training Centre of 2. It was thus decided. There had been nothing more to discuss.

‘... Not exactly,’ a traitorous voice in the back of Kara’s mind had spoken up.

It hadn’t slipped Kara’s notice the way Mon El had acted around her right from the moment they had finished talking about the mysterious man and the 13 pin. With nothing more left to distract either of the two, it was blatantly obvious where both their thoughts would stray now. Kara had observed as Mon El, appearing suddenly a little nervous, had visibly struggled to find something, anything to say, to divert both their attention to something far away from their conversation before it had been interrupted by the stranger. Away from what Mon El had told her, from what he had confessed to her. He had quickly returned to writing in his notebook, hoping that the girl in front of him didn’t notice just how nervous he felt.

She noticed.

As Kara traced a symphony of colours on the canvas before her, she couldn’t help but register the multitude of things she felt at the memory of the day before. She could remember, with stark clarity, the nervousness that had reflected so clearly on his face. His eyes, as she had identified over the time she had spent with him, had a peculiar effect. Though the same colour, they could change into different shades depending on how he felt. The same steely blue eyes of a determined Career could turn into a stormy grey that showcased so clearly the turmoil they held within. As trained a Career as he was, he could never quite exercise control over his eyes. At any given moment, they could tell her exactly how he felt. At any given moment, they were mesmerizing.

Then there were other things, she realized, that could indicate, quite clearly, his state of mind. Little things that Kara was sometimes sure even he didn’t realize he did himself. Small, involuntary actions such as how he would bite his lip when he was focussed on something, or how he scratched his chin whenever he felt nervous. Kara found how familiar she had grown to such seemingly trivial things. How they made her feel oddly relaxed. Even in the arena it had been a source of comfort for her, knowing that behind the Career facade that he had been trained to put on, there was someone who understood her well, whom she understood just as well too. But out here, away from the arena, away from the worry of revealing themselves to the Capitol, the feeling had only increased, and Kara had found herself growing quite fond of every little thing he did. It brought a smile to her face, as she remembered just how nervous he had become, when he had told her what he felt, when he had confessed to her yesterday about something that had been on Kara’s mind for quite some time.

The kiss.

The memory had lodged itself in her mind. She could remember how broken she had been, how much pain he had been in, how she had found his concern genuine and moving. And then, when she had kissed him, she had felt her problems melting away. She had experienced a peace, a calm she had never known before. It had given her hope that things would be okay. It was why the memory was one that she quite cherished, one that she was very fond of.

And yet, over the months that had passed by after that, she had never brought it up. It hadn’t, however, slipped the notice of those closest to her, that she felt a certain way about the Career from 2. Apparently, it had been blatantly obvious that she  _ liked him _ -liked him, (a term coined by her best friend Eve). Although she had very simply denied the insinuation, Eve had later informed her that she had done so with the presence of a crinkle in between her brows.

Her Earth-mother Alura had gone about it a different way.  _ “The connection between you two is obvious,” _ she had said.  _ “He makes you happy.” _ The words had been a perfect description of exactly what she felt, because if there was one thing that Kara had known for sure all along, it was that over the past year, ever since she had been forced to enter the arena, Mon El had played a major part in ensuring her well-being. He had been there for her, preventing her from falling down, and encouraging her to move forward. He truly did make her happy, there wasn’t a shred of doubt in her mind. When Kara had thus agreed with Alura’s statement, her mother had finally asked the big question.

_ “Do you love him?” _

She had never talked to him about how she felt, hesitating for the very same reasons as those that had made it so difficult for him to blurt it out himself. A part of her had even been afraid that Mon El had never really been aware of her presence that day. He had been barely conscious, in immense pain. Did he even know about the kiss? Did he remember it? Doubts had plagued her mind, as she had finally told herself that it was all much too complicated to address. Perhaps, things were best left the way they were.

That was until yesterday.

Now, Kara was back in a whirlwind of emotions. She was compelled now to sort out how she felt, a task she found extremely difficult. On one hand, she understood each and every word that Mon El had said. She knew, very well, the struggles of being an alien on this planet. She was well aware of the hardships, of accepting that the normal that every human so easily spoke about, was not one meant for an alien like her to achieve. To add to it, the world they lived in didn’t exactly make it easier for her to even dream about a time, a future where she could live freely, away from the dread, the fear that came guaranteed with everything in Panem. She had told Alura as much. As long as there was the Capitol, there would be fear. And as long as there was fear, there couldn’t be love.

Right?

On the other hand, none of what she had told herself just now, felt even the closest bit okay...

Perhaps it truly was a good thing that she didn’t get a chance to say her piece yesterday. ‘What would you even say?’ the traitorous voice in the back of her mind voiced its concern.

* * *

“Kara?”

The voice that came along with the opening of the heavy-set doors of the Art room pulled her attention, as she turned suddenly to face the new-comer.

“Mom?” Kara replied in a surprised tone. “You’re back already?”

“I just reached,” Alura replied. Facing her daughter with knitted brows, she asked in a tone full of concern. “I hope you haven’t been painting all day. You did eat, didn’t you?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Kara exclaimed, though a little haphazardly. She couldn’t believe how quickly the time had flown. She had indeed been painting all day, taking breaks of course, only to eat the sandwiches that Alura had kept for her. “The cake was amazing, everything, actually! I was painting and just lost track of time.”

At this, Alura gave her a warm smile and said, “Well, I’d love to see what you made but it’s almost time. They’re starting the broadcast.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

As Alura turned to leave for the living room, Kara turned to face the canvas that she had been working on all day. So engrossed in her work, she had completely forgotten about why she had come to the Art room in the first place. The Quarter Quell, the announcement, everything had slipped her mind, while the day had zoomed by. Therefore, before deciding to finally leave the room and join her parents to watch the dreaded announcement, Kara wanted to see the finished product of her day-long endeavour.

Kara blinked as she saw the no-longer empty canvas in front of her.

Usually, when she painted to free her mind, to relax, she would let the art flow from her mind and onto the paper without thinking about it consciously. She would let her subconscious take over and look at the result when it was done. When she first began painting, she had, in this way, produced various pieces of the views of the forest. The forest, she figured, had been the one place in all her life on Terra that had been there for her and allowed her to be who she really was.

Lately, however, she had been painting the views of the sky. The green of the trees had been replaced with the midnight blue of the night sky, adorned with bright specks of stars. She would often capture the various constellations that were visible from Earth, reminding her of the sense of relief that she felt every time she looked up at the sky. She had come from there, after all. The sky had once been her home, for a very long time, until her pod had finally managed to land on Terra. 

But this piece was different. Not unlike every painting of hers, this too represented a memory. But that wasn’t what she found strange about it. Instead, what was peculiar about this very painting, was that this was a scene from a time not on Earth. It wasn’t even from a moment she had spent on Krypton or any of the other worlds that she had visited. The way that she had drawn the stars, the angle from which she was viewing them was different than how she usually saw them.

With a start, she realized. This was her view from her pod in space.

Kara gaped at the picture with her mouth slightly ajar. She remembered the little girl who would gape at the view as the stars would zoom by her, creating a sort of trailing blur behind them. She had almost forgotten just how beautiful it was that far out in space. She remembered how whenever she would feel trapped in her pod, she would look out into the vastness of space that would remind her to simply breathe.  _ ‘Breathe, it will all be okay,’ _ the recording of her birth-mother’s voice would calm her down.

But what had reminded her of this? Why had her subconscious stumbled upon this view, when her conscious mind had been so engrossed in a multitude of thoughts about everything? She really had thought about everything under the sun, hadn’t she? The Games, being a mentor, the mysterious person and District 13, none of it could make her remember the relief that she felt now as she saw the painting before her. That only left one other thing.

Kara’s eyes widened with realization.

As Mon El’s face came to mind, she suddenly understood. The view before her was one that Kara Zorel of District 12 had never seen. It was one that existed well beyond the realms of her life on Earth. It thus represented the last time she would ever do something that a Kryptonian would do, the last time she would feel normal. Out there, in space, she never had to pretend to be a human from District 12 of Panem. She never had to pretend to be someone she was not. She could just be herself. It was something she had never quite thought she would experience ever again.

Until she had stumbled upon a mysterious Career wearing a necklace that had reminded her of home.

Kara smiled as she realized just what Mon El meant to her. She recognized what meeting him had done for her. Looking at the painting, she realized that rather than just a memory, it now represented a dream, a hope. Because out there, with him, she could not only be herself, but also not be alone. With him, it would be normal. With him, it would be perfect.

The distant sound of the Horn of Plenty coming from the living room holo reached her ears, as she finally decided to leave the Art room. With one final glance at the painting, she found herself smiling contentedly. Earlier, she had come to the conclusion that perhaps friendship truly was the best thing between her and Mon El. 

The traitorous voice in her head voiced triumphantly now,

‘Nah, it wasn’t!’

* * *

The Horn of Plenty was the national song of Panem. It was believed to be the most revered song in all of Panem. This was true for the people of the Capitol. Those in the Districts, however, strongly disagreed. The familiar melody, rather than encouraging a sense of honour and patriotism in the minds of people, brought about nothing but pure, unadulterated fear. Because any time it was sounded, something horrible followed. The Horn of Plenty always led to something terrifying.

Therefore, as the song sounded now, on every holo in every house in all of Panem, families in the Districts sat huddled together and waited with bated breath for the horrors that were to follow.

As soon as the song ended, the horrors took the form of a man, a familiar face that the entire nation collectively feared. President Snow looked directly into the camera, his eyes resembling those of a venomous snake. His smile though meant to be masked as a welcoming one, was cold and malicious. He wore his normal black attire, with a signature white rose pinned to the lapel. All of Panem now had their eyes glued to their holo screens, petrified to do otherwise.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he spoke in a booming, clear voice. “Welcome to the beginning of this the seventy fifth year of the Hunger Games.”

Citizens of the Capitol clapped and cheered inside their houses. The people of the Districts remained stoic.

“It was written in the Charter of the Games,” he continued, “that every twenty-five years, there would be a Quarter Quell, to keep fresh for the new generations, the memory of those who died in the uprising against the Capitol. Each Quarter Quell is distinguished by games of a special significance. Now, on this the seventy fifth anniversary of our defeat of the rebellion, we celebrate the third Quarter Quell.”

He paused to look down at the podium before him and picked up a crimson red envelope, sealed with the official seal of the Capitol. With the envelope in hand, he continued, “Our forefathers, when they crafted the Charter of the Games, wrote down the rules for every Quarter Quell that would take place in the years to follow. These rules have since been stored safely in the vaults of the Capitol, sealed by the emblem of our land. Today, as we prepare to celebrate the third Quarter Quell, we look to our forefathers to guide us and define the distinctive feature of this year’s Games, as it was written seventy five years ago.” 

With that, he took a sleek knife in one hand and carefully slit open the envelope just below the seal. From inside, he removed an aged, folded card. It was inscribed with the number ‘75’ on it. Opening the fold and smoothing the paper out, he read, “As a reminder, that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, on this, the third Quarter Quell, the female and male tributes…”

The citizens of Panem collectively held their breaths, not daring to make even the slightest sound, in case they missed the President’s next few words. People of the Capitol moved closer to their holo screens. Families in the Districts held each other a little tighter.

“... are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors from each district.”

A cacophony of reactions emerged from the thick-walled mansions of the Victor’s Village in each District. Some screamed in rage, while others stood in shock. Some threw the crystal bottles in their hands at the holo, damaging the screen, but not the message. The most peculiar reaction however, belonged to the victor’s mansions marked with the number 74 in Districts 2 and 12.

* * *

Mon El was drinking water when the announcement was made. The Roqford’s were all sitting close together on the living room couch facing the holo screen. When the announcement was made, there was a second of stretched silence. It was broken by a sudden crash of glass. Mon El had let go of his strength, causing the glass in his hand to smash, the smaller of the broken pieces sticking to the invincible skin on his hand, the bigger ones littering the carpet below. Snow’s words kept repeating in his mind, as his eyes were fixed on the screen ahead.

“Mon El?”

Maya, sitting next to her brother, called out to him in a shaky voice. He didn’t seem to hear. She was staring at him with tears and concern clouding her eyes. Besides her, Rhea was staring at him cautiously. 

Mon El continued to stare at the screen, his slow and calm breath picking up a little pace. His vision was now blurring in and out of focus. He could hear a distant voice calling his name, but couldn't find it in him to respond. His breath was steadily getting quicker. Why was the oxygen in the room suddenly not enough? He felt a shudder run through his right hand.

He got up.

His entire body was shaking. He was trying and failing to take one deep breath after the other. His head was spinning. He closed his eyes, struggling to steady himself.

“Mon…" Maya whispered. Tears were streaming down her face. This time he did listen, as he opened his eyes and looked at her. Maya had never seen such a look in Mon El's eyes. She could identify hurt and pain magnified incredibly. He was trying to remain stoic but his walls were breaking. She slowly lifted her hand and was about to place it gently on his shaking arm when Rhea stopped her. Maya looked up at her mother and observed as she too had tears and hurt in her eyes, but was purposefully shaking her head no.

Rhea held onto Maya as she looked up to face her son. His stormy eyes were looking at her steely ones, searching for strength, yearning for stability. In all the time that Mon El had lived on Terra, Rhea had seen this look on his face only once before. She knew what followed it. Holding Maya close, she gave Mon El a silent, almost imperceptible nod. 

Mon El looked down at Maya one final time before he finally turned and walked away from the living room and towards the front door of the mansion with shaky steps. His breathing was rapid, his pulse racing. His mind was in a state of chaos and agony. But within it all, one single thought stood out clearer than everything else.

‘Kara.’

* * *

Alura slowly looked to her side.

Besides her, she found her daughter was still staring at the holo screen, her eyes wide, a look of shock plastered on her face. For the longest time, everything around them had stilled. There was a heavy silence that had settled in the room, with the only sound being that of the low static of the holo. Alura looked at her husband who was sitting next to Kara. He mirrored the look on Alura’s own face, as he too stared at their daughter in shock and with concern. ‘How could they do this?’ Alura found herself thinking. Hadn’t they made their family suffer enough?

“... Kara?” Alura whispered, trying to keep her voice as soothing, as calm as she possibly could, but failing miserably at both.

Kara was still. She could hear her mother’s voice calling out to her. She wanted to respond, but her mind refused to comply. She was shocked. She couldn’t register anything other than the steady sound of her own breathing and the words that President Snow had just uttered.

_ “... to be reaped from the existing pool of victors…” _

At first her thoughts had abruptly gone blank, as she had struggled to understand the exact implications of what had been announced. But then, slowly, one agonizing second after another, she had finally understood. The words had begun to repeat in her head, refusing to leave her thoughts, infiltrating her every emotion, every breath. They were closing in on her, trapping her, suffocating her. There was no escape in sight, nothing she could do. Her thoughts raced through her mind, struggling but failing to distract her from the horrors until suddenly, the words of President Snow were replaced by one lone statement.

She was going back to the arena.

Kara suddenly got up. Her entire body was shaking, as she rushed away from the living room, managing to run in near super-speed. She couldn’t stay here. She had to escape. Within half a second, she was on the other side of the mansion. In the next, the sound of a window opening had sounded all throughout the silent house, followed by the whoosh of the rushing air.

Kara could hear Alura calling out after her, but she couldn’t stop. She had to escape.

She flew from the grounds of 12 leaving behind her Earth-parents who watched her soaring towards the forest from the Art room of the mansion.

* * *

Mon El was gasping for breath now.

He was rushing through the depths of the forest, stumbling by the many trees that lay in his path, struggling to catch his breath, but still refusing to stop. It was dark now. The thick cover of the dense forest did not let any light reach the ground. But he kept looking, searching desperately for one person.

‘Kara.’

Unable to continue any further, he almost ran straight into a tree and leant by it, struggling to catch his breath. He was panting now, heaving as he took in deep breaths to try and calm his racing heart. Leaning by the tree trunk, he continued to scan the grounds around him. He stared into the darkness for a long minute before suddenly, he spotted something.

It was a speck of orange. It stood out in the surrounding like the lone source of light in darkness. He observed how it was flickering a little when all of a sudden he realized what it was. A flickering source of light in the forest.

A fire.

“Kara…” he whispered, as he made his way towards the light. His mind was racing now with concern. He knew what could happen next. He knew far too well just how broken one could feel. Above all, he knew how dangerous it could be to feel that way. They were aliens after all. They didn’t have the freedom to feel emotions like humans did. Not without causing destruction. When his Earth-father had died, Mon El had witnessed first-hand just how destructive his powers truly could be. He had their severity. Knowing Kara, knowing the powers she possessed, he couldn’t let her lose control. He had to protect her from the destruction of her own powers. He had to protect her from herself.

As the spot of orange grew bigger and bigger, he finally saw just what he had been dreading. A fire was raging on on the ground below, in a clearing in the forest, devouring the dry grass that lay in its path, but remaining fixed in one spot in the clearing. Mon El ran towards it. He kept looking around, searching for her when all of a sudden, he found her.

Kara was kneeling on the ground just before the fire. Although he couldn’t see her face, Mon El could tell that she was crying, for her entire body was shaking violently. As he got closer, he finally got a glimpse of her face.

A look of sorrow and agony adorned her face, as Kara continued to cry. Tears were streaming down her face, clouding her eyes, blurring her vision, but she still kept her eyes wide open. She refused to blink. She was staring at something on the floor, something burning in the fire before her.

Mon El slowly walked towards her, his steps marked only by the twigs he crushed underneath his feet. If Kara heard him coming, she didn’t let it show. She continued to stare at the ground, at an object that had been set on fire. 

“Kara…” he whispered, unsure if she even heard him. 

She did. Even though she didn’t turn to look at him, she took in a deep, shaky breath and exhaled in a shudder. 

He slowly knelt besides her, looking at her with tears in his own eyes. A moment passed, before Kara slowly looked up at him. The intensity of pain that shone on her face broke him. He felt his resolve to stay steady begin to diminish. ‘How could this be happening?’ he thought to himself. How could he make it stop?

That was when he saw it in her eyes. Pain turned to anger, as a fire slowly began to rise in her own eyes, rivalled only by the fire that raged on in front of them. He could feel the rage brewing inside her, could sense the anger that she had been controlling for so long. He saw her shaking even more violently now. Without a second’s delay, he quickly wrapped his arms around her and hugged her with all his strength. 

Kara’s arms were trembling behind him. She closed her eyes tightly as she felt his embrace. Trembling, she breathed deeply, but knew well enough that it would do nothing to calm her heart. All she felt in that moment was fury. Anger directed towards the Capitol, towards Snow. ‘How could they do this?’ she asked herself. ‘How could they…’

When she opened her eyes, a bright blue orb shone in them. She felt anger rising through her, as she looked up towards the sky, her eyes still illuminating in a way no human’s could, and saw the stars above. The view was finally enough. With her eyes wide open, her face scrunched in pain and fury, she finally let go.

Beams of laser shot through her eyes as she screamed in agony. Looking up, she shot her laser-vision directly towards the clear skies above. Even the slightest contact with the trees around her, her laser-vision could cause a wildfire that no human could ever hope to control. A distant part of her knew this. But she could no longer control the anger within. She had had enough. She had truly had enough.

Mon El could feel her entire body trembling. He was shaking too. But he held on, as tightly as he could. He needed to, now more than ever, let her know that she wasn’t alone. Through the tears in his eyes, he looked down at the burning object on the floor before him.

It was a canvas; a burning painting of the stars.

Kara continued to scream, her laser vision still shooting for the skies. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she thought about how the day had gone by. How could she dare to dream of freedom? How could she let her subconscious remind her of a time when she was away from all this? She was on Earth now. She could never hope to reach for those stars now. She was stuck here, trapped here. And in a few days, she would be trapped even further in it all. She had dreamed of outer space today, but she wasn’t going there now. She was going back to the arena. She was going back to the Games.

And to think, it had all begun with a simple little announcement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Points to Consider:  
> 1\. 'The illusion of choice' is what I found very interesting about the system of things in the HG universe. I feel like it goes hand in hand with the concept of providing hope. It's as though they want people to keep going, without stopping to make their lives miserable along the way. Additionally, this is in many ways the same for the common citizens of both the Capitol as well as the Districts.  
> 2\. Waffle Cakes!🤤  
> 3\. Kara is an artist!  
> 4\. 'At any given moment, his eyes could tell HER how he felt'... Yeah...!  
> 5\. 'Nah, it wasn't!'  
> 6\. Nothing more to include here in the notes... Move along now!!.....!  
> (I am terribly sorry..!)
> 
> Thank You for Reading!  
> Until Next Time!


	18. Stronger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "But the prevention of mistakes of the future did not undo the events of the past."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was I listening to the song Stronger by the Score when naming this chapter? Yes, yes I was.

Fear was a strong motivator.

As President Snow settled in the lone armchair in his study, he stared intently at the many screens in front of him. Unrest and chaos filled nearly every District of Panem. People were crowding in the streets, causing an uproar against this year’s Quarter Quell. Even those at the Capitol weren’t very pleased about the modification for the Games this year. No one had expected something as explosive as this. After all, the tributes this year weren’t going to be just ordinary citizens of the Districts. These were people who had been graced by the riches of the Capitol: a group of outsiders, for they were neither commoners living in the poor, nor the wealthy born in the Capitol. These were people isolated from their own home, detached from the districts wherein they lived.

These were the victors.

Victors were often mistaken for being the sacrosanct citizens of Panem. Strong in their own might, some even considered them invulnerable. Having won the Games, they answered to no one. They had fought their battles already. They were people that had gone through the system of the Games, had entered the arena and had emerged victorious and alive. That was what set them apart from people from their own districts. Unlike people of the Capitol, they were strong, fierce. They had the ability to fight and it was one that had been showcased to the world already. It was therefore obvious why some considered them unstoppable; a force of nature leaving destruction in its path. They were considered by many, including the heads of Districts from the Capitol and other colleagues of President Snow, as invincible.

Clearly, this perception had to be dealt with.

Hence the decision. Hence the rule-change. The corner of his lips twitched into a smile, as President Snow welcomed the much-anticipated outcome of his announcement. The Third Quarter Quell was no longer just a special year in the Games. Rather, it was a significant one; one that would turn the course of events entirely in the direction and favour of the Capitol. It was more a strategic event now, than just another year of the Quarter Quell. The announcement that the President had made just the night before had the ability to change everything. Evidence of this, presented itself in the form of the unrest that was actively claiming the Victor’s Villages in numerous districts. 

President Snow looked at a particularly violent rally from District 7, being led by a familiar face. He recognized the girl instantly, for she had flown directly into the Capitol’s radar a few months ago, having led explosive riots in the Weapons District of Panem. Snow had a sense of respect for people like her. He recognized the fire in her eyes, well capable of leading people into battle, of encouraging and empowering them to overthrow the unfair, unjust system, set up by cruel and tyrannical leaders. She had been among the first in all the Districts to get people of her district to riot openly in such large numbers. When peacekeepers had been deployed to 7, she had been the most difficult to apprehend. It was therefore no surprise that she was leading the riots now as well.

Reaching over to the glass table besides him, President Snow grabbed a small, palm-held device that consisted of a dozen buttons. Clicking on one, he looked up at the screens again. The footage on the bottom first screen from the right froze, focussing clearly on the face of the female rioter from 7. Another button on the hand-held controller caused a small box frame to appear around her face, with the words  _ ‘Accessing data’ _ displayed on the screen. Within seconds, the facial recognition software had searched through the extensive database of Panem and was now displaying anything and everything to do with the girl, on the screen. President Snow took note of the name. He then picked up the notepad kept on the table right next to the controller and jotted down her name, along with the number ‘7’ right next to it. Quickly after, he pressed another button and the footage resumed. 

His eyes now flitted towards the other end of the array of screens, as he focussed on the bottom first screen from the left. A small label hanging just below that screen contained the number ‘12’ on it. Unlike most screens around it, this one did not showcase a display of disorder and uproar. Rather, it showcased a secluded, quiet street. The camera in the District 12 Victor’s Village had been so placed that it merely provided surveillance of the street, not individual houses. The frame however, was wide enough to capture parts of the occupied houses of the Village, such as the front lawns, part of the fence, and a few windows here and there.

President Snow looked carefully. District 12 was among the handful of districts that did not showcase their discontent with the announcement. But it wasn’t because the news didn’t affect their victors. Instead, it was owing to the fact that these districts didn’t have many victors to begin with. Three to five people didn’t exactly constitute an uproar. Furthermore, 12 had the lowest number of victors in the Districts. One from about fifty-two years ago, and another from the very recent Games. On paper, 12 would be considered the very last District to be greatly affected by the Third Quarter Quell.

It was therefore surprising to consider that the very cause for the announcement was none other than the female victor from 12.

President Snow peered at the near corner of the District 12 screen. He could make out the shards of glass that lay on the grass near the walls of the Victor’s mansion of Kara Zorel. ‘Broken Window,’ he thought to himself, as a near-imperceptible smile spread across his face, satisfied by the realization that the broken window was clearly a result of an explosive reaction to the announcement. It was evidence that the news had affected the person that it was mainly directed towards. Whether the female victor from 12 understood this, he wasn’t sure. All that mattered at the moment, was simply that Kara Zorel would be entering the arena yet again. 

This time, however, she wouldn’t be exiting it alive.

The 74th Annual Hunger Games had been among the highest rated Games. The dramatic events that had taken place inside the arena had received wonderful audience reception. There was a time when even President Snow had been quite satisfied with how things were proceeding. That had been until in the end, when two tributes from different districts had had the guts to showcase unity in distress. When a Career from 2 had chosen to save a girl from an outline district. When a girl from poor, low-lying District 12 had suddenly decided that an alliance with a Career was above the rules and regulations of the Games. When a foolish head-gamemaker had made the fatal decision of letting both these rebellious tributes survive, and leave the arena alive.

That was when President Snow had been forced to take things over.

He understood that the consequences, the repercussions of the smallest of things could lead to the biggest of wars. He saw the events of the Games for exactly what they were, and was well aware of the terrible things to which they could lead. A fire, left unchecked could burn down the world. It was therefore his responsibility to save the empire that he had helped set up from every threat. From the very moment Kara Zorel and Mon El Roqford had stepped out of the arena, alive, President Snow had known this threat was imminent. He had known that the actions of these victors could lead to massive destruction, to the crumbling of the empire.

He had known that they had to be eliminated.

Instilling fear in the girl was merely the beginning. On the final day of the victory tour for the 74th Games, President Snow had attempted to and succeeded in cornering the female victor from 12 and laying down the simple yet threatening facts in front of her. He had managed to convey to her that were she to ever step out of the line again, she, her loved ones and everyone she cared about would suffer. His warning had also been emphasized when one of her interviews had showcased a painting of the female tribute from 11, who had been the major factor for the riots in 11. President Snow had punished her for it, and thus, the fire that was Kara Zorel had been tamed, a wildfire prevented.

But the prevention of mistakes of the future did not undo the events of the past. Of all, Kara Zorel’s biggest mistake had been giving people something that was far more explosive, and a lot more dangerous than anything else. Hope. When she had protected the little girl from 11, she had given the people of her district hope that an innocent tribute could return home. When she had given the same girl a special farewell, she had indicated to all of Panem that the girl’s death meant something, that it deserved to be mourned. When, finally, she had refused to kill a tribute from another district, she had given commoners of the Districts hope for a unity among them that had never existed before. The system that ran Panem was a delicate one, based strongly on the concept of fear. Fear of loss of life. Fear of losing everything were it not for the grace and generosity of the Capitol. Add unchecked hope to the mix, and the entire system begins to collapse. Fissures run deep within it, promising, if not the fall of the empire, then destruction of peace at the very least.

_ “As long as she is alive, she will continue to fuel the rebellion,” _ he had told Plutarch Heavensbee, the current head-gamemaker. They had both been sitting in the downstairs study of the Presidential mansion, the footage of riots in two more districts playing on big screens in front of them.  _ “As long as she is alive, they will have hope.” _

_ “I agree,” _ Heavensbee had replied thoughtfully.  _ “She’s not a leader. She’s not as strong as they think she is, but her image is. I’m just worried that killing her would simply make her a martyr in their eyes. We just need to show the people that she is not worthy of their support. Play their minds into seeing what we want them to see.” _

“ _ Whatever game you’re playing, Heavensbee,” _ President Snow had replied a little sharply,  _ “those out there are not playing it with you. Kara Zorel has become a fire well beyond the reach of control.” _ He had stressed on his next words a little more.  _ “She must be eliminated.” _ Observing how the head-gamemaker had had no rebuttal to this statement, and had thus remained quiet, simply nodding in agreement, President Snow had continued,  _ “And not just her, her entire species has to be eliminated.” _

_ “Her species, sir?” _ The head-gamemaker had enquired.

In response, President Snow had pressed a button on the controller on the table and gestured to the screen ahead. Instantly, the riots footage had been replaced by footage of District 9, where rioters were being led by the familiar face of a victor of the Games from a few years ago. This quickly gave way to feed from District 7 where yet another victor was leading a rebellion. It had continued on, as the screen had displayed recordings of victors from several prominent districts either causing an uproar, similar to 9 and 7, or some even resisting the authority like the victor from the prominent Career District of 2.  _ “The other victors,” _ President Snow had explained. As the screen had paused on the footage from District 2, he had continued,  _ “Because of her, they all pose a threat. Because of her, they all think they’re invincible.” _ Turning to Heavensbee, he had continued in a plain tone,  _ “They need to be eliminated along with her.” _

And so a plan was hatched: one that could ensure the death of the female victor from 12 and make it so that no possible outcome that could harm the power of the Capitol could arise from it. Heavensbee had been right, in the sense that simply killing Kara Zorel wouldn’t be enough. They had to destroy the idea that was her from the minds of people. Numerous strings had to be pulled, but in the end, the secure locker that contained the rules for Quarter Quells had been broken into, while the envelope for the 75th Annual Hunger Games had been replaced with one of his own making. Everything had ultimately led to the announcement of the Third Quarter Quell. Two birds had been killed with one stone. After this, those that had even dreamed of resisting shall be silenced. People wouldn’t dare to underestimate the true power of the Capitol, when the strongest of them would fall like ninepins right in front of their very eyes. For once, the threat will be eliminated. For once, Kara Zorel will be dead.

Picking up his notepad once again, President Snow carefully scribbled down the name of the female victor from 12 and wrote down the number ‘12’ beside it. Satisfied with his work, he reread the list of names. On the top of the page was a heading:  _ ‘T3QQ’ _ . The code was simple, yet not as legible to an untrained eye. He had included it as a simple precaution. 

With that, he picked up the controller and with a single button, all twelve screens instantly went blank. He then got up from his seat, the notepad clutched in his hand. He had thought of simply leaving it here, but had thought better of it. After having very carefully replaced the official envelope for the 75th Hunger Games, he needed to remain cautious. He couldn’t afford an inquiry from the power-hungry heads of Districts, especially in such a crucial part of his plan. The list couldn’t be allowed to fall in the wrong hands. 

Considering how it contained the list of tributes that would mandatorily be included in the Third Quarter Quell, that notepad was perhaps one of the most important documents in all of Panem.

* * *

“Throw it all away." Plutarch Heavensbee spoke in a matter-of-fact tone.

He was sitting behind the main desk in his new office for Head-Gamemaker of the 75th Annual Hunger Games. Every year, the Hunger Games were set up in arenas built all over the world. Locations were selected on the basis of numerous factors such as the natural terrain, climatic conditions as well as underground accessibility, among others. Once the Games were over and a victor declared, the arena was abandoned while the search for new grounds, which usually began around three months before the previous year's Games, would end on the next site almost instantly. As a result everything had to be built from scratch. An arena was never re-used. Same was sort of true for the Game Headquarters.

The Hunger Games Headquarters was located a little off mainland Capitol. The building mainly consisted of the arena control room, along with numerous offices and rooms meant for gamemakers. Though unlike the arena, the location didn't change for the building, everything else did. It was called an ‘ambience reset.' According to the feel and theme of the Games, each year the Headquarters were redesigned to match the atmosphere and ambience of the arena. The control room, which was essentially one of the most technologically-advanced rooms in the entire world was given newer and better controls each year, making it easier for the gamemakers to monitor and oversee each and every aspect of the Games. This was where the ‘magic' happened, and every year, this room was made even more mythical than previously thought possible.

The offices and rooms were also refurbished. The overall layout remained the same throughout. Floors were designated as per importance, with data warehouses being on the lower floors and the living quarters for gamemakers being higher up, with the control room at the topmost floor. Every floor underwent changes as per the arena design and requirements of operation. The head-gamemaker’s office was an exception.

Situated on the second floor from the top, directly below the control room, the head-gamemaker’s office was a strategic haven. Game plans that dictated exactly what would happen in the arena were cooked up here. Another thing that set this office room apart from all others was the fact that the head-gamemaker office never changed according to the arena. Rather, the designs here depended solely on the head-gamemaker him or herself. They could decide what was necessary for the room. Whatever was necessary to inspire ideas for the layout of the Games, a task considered most paramount in the Capitol.

The office had seen nothing but minor renovations and furnishings for the last four years. This year, however, the office was to change almost entirely. Seneca Crane was a fan of a luxurious ambience. His office was spacious, the walls lined with shelves full of honours and awards, along with numerous pictures of friends and associates working in the building. The furniture was warm and welcoming, giving the room a deluxe aura. 

This year, the room had been transformed drastically.

The shelves on the walls had been stripped of awards and trophies and replaced with books on strategy and planning. The pictures had been taken down, leaving the walls mostly blank. Plutarch Heavensbee wasn’t a believer in photographs of colleagues (“If you’re friends with someone, you’ll remember what they look like.”). The atmosphere of the room was no longer welcoming. Instead, it was cold and aloof. Apart from a large table, a wooden cupboard and a handful of leather chairs, the room was almost entirely empty. Crane’s office used to look more like a living room, while Heavensbee had made the room much more like a proper office. 

George Rutherford, the assistant to the head-gamemaker, had noticed as much.

Like the office, the assistant to the head-gamemaker too didn’t change with the decor. Assistants were chosen independently and were therefore not dependent on the person who was appointed as the head-gamemaker. George had been Seneca’s assistant for over two years and had now quickly accepted Heavensbee as the new head. Left to him, he actually preferred the cold of Heavensbee’s office. It indicated to him that he was an ambitious man. He didn’t want to waste time in forming cordial relations with the other gamemakers. He had no intentions of proving to anyone that he was a kind-hearted boss. All that mattered were the Games. The approach was one George quite agreed with. He found himself looking forward to working with the man.

A week ago, Heavensbee’s office had been set up. A week ago, George had informed his new boss that his office was ready for work. Today, he had received a message on his comms device. It was curt, matching very well the laconic behaviour of his boss.  _ ‘Games HQ. 0900 hours.’ _ it had read.

And so, George had stood ready at the door, a clipboard in one hand, a plastic bag in the other, with about a minute to spare. At exactly nine o’clock, he had knocked on the door and waited for being called in. Another thing that had impressed George, was the fact the Games HQ was already operational three months before the actual Games. Perhaps it had a little to do with this year being a Quarter Quell, but it was still no mean feat. George had already been assigned some pre-Games preparation tasks that could only enhance the team’s performance. Gamemakers were asked to memorize the controls that they would use to manipulate the arena, so as to avoid any last-minute complications, while a schedule consisting of practice runs in the control room had been handed to George to inform everyone at the HQ. 

Finally, about to leave, George had asked Heavensbee one last question. It had been regarding the plastic bag in his hand. It had consisted of papers, documents and all the things that had been emptied out of Seneca Crane’s office drawers. Usually, new head-gamemakers never shared styles with their predecessors, as a means to stand out. They never copied arena design ideas. However, each head-gamemaker did a substantial amount of research during his/her term, regarding location data, little idiosyncrasies about the workings of the arenas, the employee database at the HQ, etc. This information, though trivial, was still crucial to efficiency and was therefore passed on from head-gamemaker to head-gamemaker. However, when George had asked Heavensbee what he was to do with Seneca Crane’s research, the man had simply asked him to throw everything out.

“All of it, sir?” George enquired, as though unsure of what Heavensbee meant when he said, ‘Throw it all away.’

“Yes, Mr Rutherford,” Heavensbee replied patiently. “I have no interest in assessments and analyses made by my predecessor. I would much rather do that myself. I’m afraid my documentation style is just a little different from that of Mr Crane. It is however crucial that that information doesn’t get away from us, so please ensure that all papers are burned. As for his personal effects, well you can either transport them back to his house or get rid of them. That’s entirely up to you.” He paused for a moment, before concluding with a “Thank you, Mr Rutherford, that will be all.”

George, being the mannerly assistant that he was, responded with a short nod and said, “Thank you sir, do let me know if you need anything,” before pulling open the office door and exiting.

As he reached his own office at the end of the corridor, he placed the bag containing Crane’s belongings down on his desk, deciding to sort through the items, segregating them into papers for burning and other objects for throwing away. George was a very organized man. Going by the objects placed on his clean and tidy desk (a notebook, a pen stand, a local-comms device and a small desk frame engraved with the symbol of the Capitol, that had been a gift from a friend), he preferred to sort through things before they led to untidiness. 

Rifling through the bag, he removed one item after another and placed them in two piles on his desk. Crane collected some of the most useless items he had ever known. Emptying out the plastic bag, he found an old newspaper clipping, a rabbit keychain, an unsolved rubik’s cube, an old terran coin, a few pens that didn’t work, a badge with the official seal of the Capitol, a box of fruit slices and other documents that Crane had seemingly used as study material before designing the arena for the 74th Annual Hunger Games. George sifted through everything, placing the papers in one pile, not before reading through them once, and placing the objects in the other. He even came across a tiny black pebble, which he studied for a few minutes, before strengthening the point even more in his head that his previous boss was a collector of the useless, before tossing the pebble in the trash pile. Once he had finally emptied the bag, the comm on his desk rang to life.

Having been called away for his 10 o’clock meeting with the gamemakers, he decided to simply keep Seneca Crane’s belongings in a corner for now, planning to take it to the downstairs incinerator at the end of the day.

(He didn’t know that by the time he would next return to his office at the end of the day, all of Crane’s belongings would be long gone.)

* * *

Plutarch Heavensbee had no time to spare.

Even though he knew the mountain-load of work that had been thrust upon him now as the head-gamemaker, he couldn’t help but take a moment to take it all in. Sitting in his chair in his office, he looked around the spacious room. He had waited eleven years to finally make it to the top office of HQ. He sighed intently, as he realized that he had finally made it.

The truth was that he would have made it years ago, were it not for his pompous, arrogant predecessor.

Seneca Crane had been a typical young blood. He had had no respect whatsoever for the discipline that was to be found in the workings of the Games. The Games were a form of art in themselves. There were numerous factors to be considered when it came to the revered craft of designing an arena. Plutarch Heavensbee, not unlike many that worked in the Games HQ, had started his journey as a gamemaker by working in the location’s department. There, he had learnt all the subtle details that were taken into consideration when an arena was designed. Location mattered immensely, along with each and every department that had been set up in the HQ for the convenience of the gamemaking process. It was the conventional way. It was the right way.

That had been until a few years ago, when a young Seneca Crane had suddenly felt the need to go for a unique, unconventional approach to the Games. The man had no regard for rules whatsoever, no respect for traditional practices in designing arenas. He was a people’s man, talking his way through the ranks with the help of his ‘radical’ ideas that would ‘change the Games forever!’ It was why at such a young age, Crane had secured a job that even middle-aged people as old as Heavensbee struggled to get. It was as though the man had cut in line, one that Heavensbee himself had been waiting in for years.

He was therefore of the opinion that Crane deserved what he got. The heart-attack story had convinced no one. Almost everyone who knew anything about how the Capitol worked, knew that Crane’s death had been far from a natural one. But Heavensbee truly believed that whatever had happened, had happened for a reason. Young idealists like Crane had no clue of the system that they had to run. They couldn’t clear out the complexities. It was better that they didn’t meddle with the proper functioning of things, and if they did, they were best eliminated from the equation.

He shook away his thoughts and focussed on his work now. He reminded himself that Crane was already gone. He was no longer part of any of this, and so did not deserve any of Heavensbee’s attention. There was someone else that he needed to focus on now. Someone else that needed to be eliminated.

That was yet another part of why Plutarch Heavensbee was so eager to work as the head-gamemaker this year. Kara Zorel, the fluke from District 12. She was another misfit in the system. One that could cause terrible destruction through her actions. Furthermore, Kara Zorel had caused him utter humiliation when she had thrown a blade at the esteemed team of gamemakers during her individual assessment last year. The shock and suddenness had caused him to fall back on the buffet table, becoming a subject of ridicule among his peers. For that matter too, he was eager to begin work on the arena for the Third Quarter Quell. Now that his idea of this year’s Games was finally out in the open, he needed to plan carefully, for her death needed to erase every trace of her and the very concept of rebellion from the minds of people. It was going to be tricky, orchestrating the death of such prominent victors that the ordinary citizens of the Capitol had grown to love. But then again, a head-gamemaker’s job was never easy. And Plutarch Heavensbee was all but ready to rise to the challenge.

* * *

It started with the warmth of the red sun on her hand.

The pleasant red sunlight on her skin was the first thing she felt, as she slowly opened her eyes. She blinked a few times to clear out her vision, as the blurry view in front of her finally came into focus. 

She was standing in a field. Surrounded entirely by sprigs of wheat that reached almost up to her waist, she could see as the field stretched on in all directions. A cool, gentle breeze was flowing through the vast grounds, pleasantly contrasting the warm sunlight. Kara noticed how everything looked a little different here. She observed as the picturesque scene in front of her was bathed in a warm pink, owing to the small but bright red sun in the sky. She looked at the vast sky above, as it too appeared to be immersed in hues of red and orange. The field she was standing on was so foreign. The world she was seeing was not her own. Yet, it seemed so very familiar. She felt peace like she had seldom felt before. Before she could help it, she began walking down a path in the field. She didn’t bother about the direction. She wasn’t worried about getting lost. She simply walked, her feet taking her to her destination almost as if out of habit. It all felt familiar. Everything here brought her peace and comfort. As long as she was here, nothing could go wrong. As long as she was here, nothing bad would ever happen.

For a moment, everything seemed perfect.

She stopped abruptly, as she looked at the large buildings ahead of her, far away from the field. The architecture was so different than the one she had been used to seeing. The scene was nothing like anything she had ever seen on Earth before. Growing up, Kara had never seen tall skyscrapers with such a beautiful, such a unique design. Furthermore, she had never witnessed the beauty that was the tall buildings touching the reddish-orange skies above, appearing as though they were floating. She had never seen something so breathtaking on Earth. 

And yet, this astonishing view felt more familiar than anything she had seen before. 

She had been here before, seen all this before. But then why couldn’t she remember it? How could something that felt so familiar, so calming feel so foreign at the same time?

Then in the blink of an eye, it hit her. Looking directly at the top of the tallest skyscraper ahead of her, she noticed how the orange halo around it almost looked as though the building was about to explode. The thought reminded her of a much more agitated memory. It was the exact contrast of the calm she was feeling not seconds ago. She felt fear. A sharp bout of hopelessness threatened to take over her, as she remembered the screams of her people when her world had been minutes away from exploding. She remembered looking all around her and seeing nothing but death and destruction. The faint whispers of panic-stricken people, as they held each other and tried to get through the horrors together. The seconds before the planet had exploded, when a transparent glass plate had shut down right in front of her and her pod had soared high up in the sky. The fraction of a second when she had been unable to hear anything before all of a sudden a resounding bang had been the only indication to her that her planet, her people, her world, everything had been destroyed. In that one moment, she had lost everything. Traversing through the blackness of space, she had tried to stay awake for as long as she could, trying but failing miserably to reign in the tears that were flowing down her face when all of a sudden, a soothing voice had called out to her.

“Kara”

Kara took in a deep breath, as she was brought back from her thoughts. She was standing in the field, the calm breeze still flowing, the warm sunlight still welcoming. For a moment she thought she had imagined the voice, when she heard it again.

“Kara, it’s okay,” the voice said calmly, managing to alleviate most of the pain in her heart.

Kara recognized this voice too well. She knew exactly whom it belonged to, even though she could never remember the woman’s face. But how could she ever forget her voice? When it had been her prized source of comfort for so long.

“Mother?” Kara said in a shaky voice, overwhelmed by the flow of emotions in her mind now, as she slowly turned to face the woman who, she knew, was standing just behind her.

But before she could face her, the woman instantly enveloped her arms around her and pulled Kara into a hug. Kara stilled, as for the first time in so long, she felt that comfort and peace were well within her reach now. For the first time in so long, she had nothing to worry about. She was at peace, carefree. She felt nothing other than the warm embrace of her birth-mother. A thought suddenly struck her. She was… happy.

“Everything is going to be alright, my love,” her birth mother continued to speak in a soothing tone. “Kara, be brave, be strong.”

“I’m scared,” Kara said with tears in her eyes, although not quite understanding why.

“Everything will fall into place one day,” her mother replied gently. “Everything will be okay. Always remember what I taught you.  _ El Mayarah _ my sweet girl. Stronger together. It will all be okay one day. Don’t let fear take over you. You are stronger than fear. Stronger than it will ever be.”

Kara took in a deep breath and as she exhaled, she felt herself relax. Her mother kept whispering soothing words, as she felt them take effect and found herself pushing fear away from her mind. She could never let fear take over. She would rise above it all.

After a long moment, she felt herself begin to separate from her mother’s embrace. She tried to hold on, but couldn’t help it, as another thought struck her mind. She eagerly began to back away just a little now, hoping to finally catch a glimpse of her mother’s face when all of a sudden, she blinked and

She wasn’t there anymore.

She looked around, confused for a few seconds before she realized what had happened. She saw the familiar trees of the forest around her. She was sitting with her back to a large tree trunk. She could hear the chirps of numerous birds twittering above her. The faint splash of the waterfall not far from where she was, reached her ears as well. As she looked down, she found ashes by her feet. Remnants of burnt canvas were littered on the ground, marked with a sharp black mark on the clearing. 

Kara took in a deep breath, as memories from the night before came rushing to her. She sat still as she didn’t bother to reign in her emotions for some time. She was tired, and knew very well that trying to control her emotions after everything was not dissimilar to fighting an already lost battle. She remained there, sitting with her back to the trunk, gazing ahead at nothing at all. A tiny voice in her head was urging her to move, but she ignored its faint murmurs. She could barely hear them, or anything else at all. A part of her didn’t want to. It wanted to stay here and let the world go by. There was nothing she could do, was there? She might as well just remain here, not seeing, not listening, not thinking, for a change. 

“Kara?”

Somehow, even through the dense fog that had settled over her mind, his voice managed to get through. Although she was somewhat lost in a trance, she could still hear him, react to his voice, recognize the concern in it. Before she could help it, Kara slowly turned to her side and faced the stormy grey eyes that she would recognize anywhere and anytime.

She was looking at him, her face blank, devoid of emotions, yet she felt the faint voice in her head growing somewhat more audible. It was urging her to listen to him, to trust him.

“The morning shifts would start any minute now,” he said in a controlled yet concerned voice.

The first thing she noticed was how he didn’t ask her whether she was okay. She was glad for it, for she had no idea whether that question was something she could even answer now. Kara involuntarily heard the faint whistle of the factories back in 12. She understood what he was referring to. It was morning now. Sneaking past the people would be difficult soon. She had to hurry. She had to get back.

“Your parents must be worried sick,” he continued in the same, concerned manner. “You need to get home.”

‘Home.’ Kara thought about the word for a long time, repeating it over and over again in her mind. She needed to get home. But she felt as though she were lost. How could she reach her Earth-parents? How was she supposed to reach Alura? She didn’t know. ‘Think!’ she willed herself, but her mind was lost, overwhelmed with thoughts and emotions. How could she get out of it all? How could she get home?

“Kara?” his concerned voice was back.

‘Follow his voice!’ Just like that the faint voice in her head was loud enough now, to tell her what she had to do. Mon El’s voice was the beacon. She had to follow it, let it lead her back home.

She felt as though she woke up with a jolt.

Everything felt clearer now. The sights, the sounds, everything had more clarity now. Her mind didn’t feel fuzzy anymore. It could think and it told her to get up. ‘We cried last night,’ it told her. ‘Now, we get up.’

“Hey? Did you hear me?” Mon El asked. “You need to get home, okay?”

This time, Kara found it in her to respond. She took in a deep breath, and turned to face him, her comet blue eyes looking directly into his stormy grey ones. She spoke in a shaky voice, answering the question she could so clearly see in his eyes.

“I’ll be okay.”

She slowly got up, feeling drained, but better than she was seconds ago. Mon El helped her stand up, as he held onto her arms. Once sure that she was stable, she nodded at him, as he slowly let her go. With a final nod, a final glance, she wordlessly headed towards District 12, towards her home.

Everything had gone wrong, she was aware of that. But somehow, a voice in her head that belonged to a woman, whose face she couldn’t even remember, kept telling her, 

‘You’ll be okay. You're stronger than fear ever will be.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Points to Consider:  
> 1\. This was sort of a filler chapter for me. Not much happened, but we got some information about people. This was about three people in three different places and how they reacted to the announcement about the Quarter Quell.  
> 2\. I don't know if this is canon in the HG universe, but the Reaping process may have been rigged for some of the Districts. I decided to include that here because it just fit so well with Snow's strategy.  
> 3\. The Plutarch Heavensbee here is going to be quite different from the one in the books/movies. For one thing, he is not at all fond of Kara and is very much on board with killing her.  
> 4\. There's this scene in Catching Fire where Gale says something (he totally should not have said in that moment because it made me go, What the hell!) and Katniss walks back towards 12 and that one moment was just so powerful for me! I mean, the girl was pretty much walking towards her death and she still did so bravely and walked steadily. It's not a significant scene as such, it's barely a moment as such right before the Reaping but I have always loved it. SO, that was what inspired the final scene here with Kara. She kept on walking.
> 
> Thank You for Reading!  
> Until Next Time!


End file.
